


Sam's Point of View

by gr8escap



Series: Correspondence [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Gen, James Buchanan Barnes - Freeform, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, sam wilson - Freeform, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been there for Bucky in Bucky's recovery without even knowing it; He's been there for Steve since that day they met running. In the midst of all this he's trying to help Steve find Bucky and keep his friend from going over the edge in the process.</p><p>Here's Sam's point of view; between Steve's Unsent Letters and Bucky's Journal</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What the Hell Did I Get Myself into?

I’m not entirely sure what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. What had started out as a typical morning run introduced a friendship with someone I’ve found I’ll do anything for, and that’s dangerous-proven within the first days of knowing him. It’s the kind of friendship you just don’t question. He’s loyal, snarky, closed up, yet surprisingly open at the same time and he’s got this huge problem.

His problem is this friend he’s known forever, the guy just doesn’t know it. Barnes. What a deal that guy’s been dealt. Held prisoner and tortured, brainwashed and cryogenically frozen when they didn’t have a use for him. He was a war hero and these fuckers – I tell ya, they messed with the wrong guy to put both Steve Rogers and James Barnes on their asses.

Barnes is on the run, from them, from Steve, from himself probably and we’re supposed to be tracking him. He’s slick. He’s Tricky. He’s not letting us get too close, even when we’re certain we’re right there. He’s taking out Hydra on his own but Steve’s not letting Barnes have all the fun. Oh, he’s got his Avengers responsibilities but he’s also got the amazing (probably that super soldier thing) ability to engage in multiple tasks, and when so much of his current Avenging is dealing with Hydra, it’s easy for him to pull in for the single focus. I’ll keep looking for Barnes; he’ll keep burning Hydra’s asses, and looking for more intel on their “Asset”. And sometimes we’ll get there after Barnes has already done the dirty work, and cleaned up, leaving no intel; not a shred of anything.

I’d hate to be in that guy’s head _and_ I’m afraid we’re getting in his sites. That’s almost as scary. He’s quick, I mean FAST. He’s smart, may not have all of his memories – if the info we have is correct, he may recover some, could recover several, all is not likely – but he currently has the tools they gave him and it looks like he’s got enough information on himself to want to turn that against them. I worried at first that he’s too far gone, and warned Steve, but I am almost starting to root for the guy.

* * *

 

The times Barnes gets ahead of us are increasing; it’s been so frustrating for Steve. It amuses me most of the time, except those times when I am in the position to have to talk him down (which is almost every time).

“Now just a minute Steve-this is his fight as much as it is yours-maybe even more. It was his life that was so reversed. You can’t go getting riled up when he outsmarts you,”

“Sam, he was **right here**!”

“Yeah and you know damned well he’d still be here if he wanted you to find him. He knows by now that you’re looking for him. You have to slow down! You’re probably making him feel **_hunted_**.”

Oh, he turned 50 shades of pale then; I think I almost made him puke. It would do him good to slow down, spend just a little less time Avenging and avenging… and hunting.

“You’re right, of course,” he’s humble, but that admission really took something from him, “I just – “

I know what he just. He just wants to burn down the world and save his friend, and I know if the roles were reversed, and it was Riley, I’d be busting down walls, breaking faces, but it would do no good. Just like Steve fighting this is doing no good.

Barnes needs to come around to find Steve, not the other way around, and face it, Captain fucking America isn’t all that hard to find.

I do a lot of work at the VA and have recently opened up the opportunity to answer hotline calls on my own phone, anonymous or not-whatever these guys and girls need. It fills the sometimes sleepless nights. I got a call tonight from a desperate vet, he was just this side of an episode and he was scared. I know when someone is hiding things from me, not quite telling the whole truth, and I know why. Sometimes it’s too hard to admit to yourself, let alone to someone else, but you **still** need someone to hear what you _can_ say. This soldier was clearly not ready to do any heavy admissions, but he sounded frantic. He’d been crying, even if I hadn’t been there before (oh, but I have), I’ve heard that raspy, wrecked tone before.

“I need to talk” was all he said. I waited.

“I’m here – what do you need soldier?”

“You have to know, I don’t want to kill myself”

“Good-that’s good. Why would I think that?”

“I called the number on a pole-suicide hotline-they gave me your number. I just need to talk to someone who understands. If that’s even possible.”

“I’m retired air force, I’ve seen combat. I hope that makes me qualified.”

He seemed to settle in some before he continued, “I have trouble with my memory; I suffered a traumatic brain injury. I’ve been trying to keep a journal, I read that sometimes helps.

“I had a breakdown or whatever; Just now, a while ago maybe, maybe it took some time to get back, I was on the street – I’m still there – something, maybe the music I was listening to-maybe just the god damned weather, made me freeze and I hit the ground with cold flashes, might even be memories, something I can’t place exactly. They were after me. Going to take me back to torture me again. Then it passed, but I couldn’t move. I’ve been so alone.”

“Is anyone currently after you? Do you have family you can reach out to? I know of a group if you think you could handle that.” I was trying to latch on to something for him that would keep him moving forward, the possibility that I was talking to a POW who was slipping through the cracks was clawing at me but he seemed more focused on being alone, so I went with that to keep him on the line.

“No, they, I think they were imagined or a flashback. I have no family, not for a long time. I can’t do a bunch of people right now. The phone, if that’s ok, is the best I can do.”

“Your best is all you have to do right now. You said you’ve been writing things down? How’s that been helping you?”

“It’s a mess, all jumbled up. I don’t know.”

“Have you read what you’ve written? Or is it just a place to dump thoughts? Maybe it would help you to try reading through them again, do you think that might help?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me to read them, I don’t know if I should… maybe I should, I will.”

Poor guy sounded so scattered. If I could help him focus even a little, I can hold hope that he’ll be ok. “It’s ok, you are doing good things. You said you read about keeping a journal, self-help books? Are they helping?”

“I think so, sometimes. I keep going back for more, so yeah, maybe.”

“Good, I’ve got a reading list if you’d like that sort of thing. I can give you a title or two to start you off.”

“Good info? I’d like that.”

I gave him a couple of really good ones, ones that I’ve not only read over and over, but that I’ve gotten good feedback on from others. Steve’s reading one of them currently even. After a few more moments on the phone, I felt confident letting him go when he said he was ready to hang up.

“Um; if it happens again? Can I call back?”

“Of course, this is a safe zone, judgment free and all hours.”

I’ve gotten many calls, but the pain and urgency in this man’s voice really stuck with me. Sometimes they get under your skin and you care a little more than you ordinarily would.

* * *

 

That one soldier with the secrets and the urgency called again several times over a decent span, which made me think he’s doing well, but this week he’s had 3 major events.

The first call of the week, he sounded more frantic, less collected than even the original call; an explosive noise set him off, which is so common and so hard to predict, anything from a backfire, gunshots, fireworks or construction noises can cause adverse reactions. I mostly just listened, best medicine sometimes is just an understanding ear, I gave a few tips for when these noises happen and told him that if he could; if he was given the chance before the feeling took hold, to grab his phone and speed-dial me so that I could “be with him” through it.

The next call gave me the impression that he did just that, he was weeping as he told me he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to be forced to do things he didn’t feel were right, didn’t want his choice removed from the equation.

“I understand what you’re saying. I know you’re afraid and it’s hard to put into words what you have had to do, but you need to try, try to use more personal terms. It takes time, no rush, man. Just work on it. It really will help you deal easier when you can make it personal. When you’re too removed from what you’ve lived, you can’t process it properly. Just a little something I’ve learned, but like I said-no rush.”

I like to think I know what to say and when to say it a good percentage off the time, but this guy seemed so unraveled that I was just trying to push some truth his way along with the support he was looking for.  In these calls I never know how long I’ll have to not only listen but to actually help so I try to make the urgent play.

Tonight the call woke me; I have no problem with that, even though I had just gotten in from a physically brutal encounter with some Hydra thugs thanks to helping Steve in his never-ending search for his friend Barnes. We’d gotten in with no trouble, the info Steve had found (nearly miraculously, I keep saying) and once we were in, were able to subdue most of the scientist and pencil-pusher types, then we were surrounded by the muscle. It was all brutality and force trying to maintain an opening, and regroup these heavies to the corner of the room. Steve has the upper hand but I had a better sightline for some of it and I’m proud to say I pulled off some pretty heroic defense. We both came out of it bruised and bleeding, had to stop over at the first aid station  at Avenger’s tower where Steve decided we should both just camp out for the night. I was too mangled and sore and too fucking tired to argue. It seemed like I had no sooner rolled – ignoring my aches – into a sleepy fetal position when the phone chirped. I nearly tossed it at the wall, but I know what I signed up for.

“H’lo” (it had to sound like that, I didn’t even uncurl when I pressed that ridiculous green button).

“I can’t understand!” was all I got for a second, that and some heavy breathing. I recognized the anguished voice, having heard it twice already this week. “It was me but I didn’t recognize the face in the mirror.”

“Slow down, soldier.” I was still just half awake and I wasn’t sure I missed something or if he started in the middle of his thoughts. “Start over; I’m afraid I missed something.” I’ll own the responsibility; it’s easier to get an honest line of communication.

“It was a dream, maybe it was a memory, and it felt real. I kept seeing the same face, a man with soft features, light eyes and a reluctant smile. There was laughter coming from somewhere but it didn’t fit the smile, didn’t come from the face. I saw it again, soft cheeks, smooth, clean shaven jaw, pale eyes, he looked uncertain and the smile looked forced, like the man was uncomfortable with my examination of him. I heard a hearty laughter coming from behind, backed by a song and a self-conscious feeling from the man in front of me. These things kept swirling – I couldn’t assign the face, it wasn’t the – it wasn’t clear, no matter how hard I tried to force the features into someone I knew, they didn’t fit. The pale eyes teared up at the laughter, it was a painful look and I couldn’t look away. Every time I tried to look away, he pleaded with me through teary pale eyes. Finally, the face swirled through my dream one last time and he had blood on his hands. My hands!

“Sometimes this happens, I won’t tell you it’s not terrible. It really is, can be, it can also be tough to reconcile who you are, what you had to do with the person you knew before, with the person you became. What’s important is accepting who you are now. Acknowledge the good you can do today and tomorrow and things will come together.’

“I rarely recognize the face in the mirror.” His voice hooked on a sob.

“How’s the journal keeping?” I reached for a connection he might be able to ground himself with. “Do you recognize the man in the words?”

“Sometimes.” He breathed, “mostly – yeah. I think I’m finding my voice.”

"You may never be willing to share, but if you ever feel like it, I’d be willing to look them over.”

He sounded hesitant, “Maybe.” Mostly noncommittal. It would likely never happen.

His breathing seemed to  be more relaxed so I attempted something daring, “how are you feeling about the dream now that you’ve told me about it?”

“Confused. I was sure it was someone else.” Hesitated a moment longer, “it felt like someone else, unable to accept something even before the blood. His face-my face-I was young. It was before combat, what war was he fighting? He was practicing a smile but wasn’t feeling it. He was ready to weep at the thought of something. Music was there, was it the song? Or the Laughter?” He sounded pained, like he was trying too hard to fix something that was irreparably broken, “It was me, but I just can’t figure it out.”

“Not necessary right now. It may work itself out in future dreams, even peaceful ones. It doesn’t matter, because you can call me about it any time. I’m expecting you to now. If you recognize the song or whose laughter you heard, maybe pieces will come together. Could you tell if it was your laugh or the laugh of someone else?”

“They’d both been pretty foreign to me.” He paused, sounding more centered, “I thought it was someone else’s laugh but I was wrong when I thought it was someone else’s face.”

“It’s not urgent, just something to consider. You’re safe, you made a call and you got through a tough situation. Focus on that right now. Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep? It might help with your focus if you catch a few more z’s before daylight.”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a try. Thanks for answerin’. I’m sorry if I woke ya.”

“Any time, man. I mean that. We sleep-deprived vets should stick together. I mean it, call any time.” There was a grunt of agreement and a click. I welcomed that click because I really just wanted to roll over and pass out. It wasn’t meant to be. From the other room I heard Steve call out to his friend, urgent screams of “Bucky!” repeating through the hall.

I dragged my battered ass across the way, “Steve, you’re dreaming, man. It’s ok. Steve, it’s just a dream.” I repeated from the doorway to his bedside. He was sitting by the time I reached him, rubbing his face. Tears defied his inner commands; he had a look mixed with anger and torment on his face. “The train again, huh?”

“How do you even do that?” he sounded terribly bitchy.

“Well, we’ve crashed in the same space too many times after one of these more difficult raids; I’m learning a lot more about you than I should have to. You have tells. Things you call out in your sleep, your features when you’re awake. You’re easy to read when your guard is down. You’re a shitty liar, even when you’re not saying anything.”

“You’re a great support system.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, and you don’t seem to be too grateful for it.” I teased. I was hurting and a little pissed that he was already mostly healed and I felt like a kicked puppy, but he’s my friend and he’s hurting in a different way. If I can encourage a perfect stranger to call me at any hour, I can hang in there for my friend. I also know how to get inside his defenses, and sarcasm and humor do the trick.

“I really am, Sam. Yes. The train again – I keep tearing myself up for not diving off after him now that I know he’s alive.”

“Alive, feeding you Hydra info through genius methods and letting us get our asses handed to us instead of doing the dirty work himself. He’s a bastard.”

“Sam…”

“I’m in actual physical pain, Steve. I can call him a bastard.”


	2. Out of the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was so tired, Sam but that box was just staring at me. I still haven’t been able to open it.”
> 
> “Steve, it’s waited this long, you don’t have to do it the minute it shows up.”
> 
> “I know-but it has waited a long time. I shouldn’t have this much of a problem opening a box of my own stuff.”
> 
> “Stuff from another lifetime, it’s not as simple as a box.”
> 
> “It’s from Europe. I know it has to be. It makes me wonder what was so important to me then. And I know with all that happened – it just, it makes me dread what I’ll find.”

We talked through Steve’s troubles after he’d derided my pain comment. He’d gotten a box before we’d gone out for Hydra. A box that was finally released to him from 1945. I’d like to say government red tape wasn’t that slow, but that’s about the speed of things. He hadn’t had the heart or chance to open it but it met him at the door when he went in for bed.

“I was so tired, Sam but that box was just staring at me. I still haven’t been able to open it.”

“Steve, it’s waited this long, you don’t have to do it the minute it shows up.”

“I know-but it **has** waited a long time. I shouldn’t have this much of a problem opening a box of my own stuff.”

“Stuff from another lifetime, it’s not as simple as a box.”

“It’s from Europe. I know it has to be. It makes me wonder what was so important to me then. And I know with all that happened – it just, it makes me dread what I’ll find.”

“It’s emotional; so try to put it in perspective; you do know pretty much everything that happened, then and since. You know there’s bound to be one big thing or bunches of little things in there that will make you feel things. What’s in there is going to be there until you take it out. You don’t have to do it alone-and you don’t have to do it with anyone watching.  It’s all your call.”

He decided to wait, and I was content to let him for the night. The morning came and helpful friends circulated the tower, seems word of our excitement from the night before got out to the rest of the Avengers team and curious, concerned and disjointed feelings were present to find out, console (and some to complain about not being invited to the fight).

Stark piped up about the box and the way Steve’s shoulders seemed to war between the initial slouch and following "posture-of-america" before he snapped to attention, I knew this might not go well.

“Uh, Tony-Steve’s delivery is his personal territory; not Avengers’ business.” I heard myself saying –even as I saw Steve’s jaw clench.

“I don’t even know why it was delivered here and not to my residence.” Steve remarked. “That’s the address the government has on file.”

“Fate? It’s here so you can’t get away with shucking it off to storage somewhere. That has to be it.”

“Stark, if you interfered with my personal information –“

“What’s the big deal? What could you possibly have to hide from a century ago? You and Barnes get kinky on those cold nights in the field?”

“Stark, you’ve entered a minefield.” Nat said from behind Steve, she could surely see the set of his muscles from his shoulders through his neck. I saw the knife’s edge in his eye. “Don’t expect Clint or me to help you when you get burned.”

“Say Steve gets the box and opens it up in front of you? What do you get from it Stark?” I dared ask. “How could it possibly hurt you to let the man follow his own process when clearly it impacts only him?”

“That’s just it. He’s not dealing. He’s not processing anything. Keeps it all inside.”

“Tony just because you can’t keep your trap shut. Are you processing? Dealing? Is that what all the largesse is about?” Ooh, largesse, I like that – way to go Steve, and extra points for not punching his face. “Fine, you want me to open the box? I’ll open the damned box, but I want all of you to leave me alone to do it. Except Sam. Sorry, but I quit the show circuit a long time ago. No need for an audience.” And he strolled out, commander of his own future, at least that was how it appeared. His one last “show”; I followed, since that’s what I think was expected of me from both sides.

The real deal was once his room was closed up again and we were the only ones in there. He sat on the chair in the seating area of his quarters; his shoulders slouched, his arms outstretched and resting on his legs, just staring at the box again.

“Steve, you don’t have to prove anything to any of them. You don’t have to do this right now.”

“You are as curious as everyone else.”

“Ok, as a human being, I’m curious – but don’t project that onto me. I **could** say open the damned thing and get it over with. It would have nothing to do with my curiosity and it would have nothing to do with you and what’s best for you – so that’s the reason I’m **not** saying it. When you open the box has to be your choice. If you don’t open it – tape it up and put it in storage, just like that peacock said. Who cares? Whose business would that be?”

He lifted the corner of the box with a deep breath.

“Remember you’re doing that of your own free will and I’m sitting here telling you that-I don’t want to go down in history as the guy who made you do this.”

“It’s my choice.” He sighed, his voice sticking on the way out.

He opened the box the rest of the way, there was some newsprint on top; the headlines from Europe and New York regarding the death of Captain America (AKA Steve Rogers) “I’m a character and a parenthetical reference, how do you like that?” his sarcasm not quite hitting it.

“Steve – “

“No, Sam, this – It’s fine;” he placed the papers gently on the floor next to the box lid. The next thing was a dress cap. He touched it gently – hesitantly before finally picking it up and running his finger across the bill. He breathed in systematically before turning it over, looking at the tag inside. “Bucky’s.” was all he said, the lump in his throat much more a permanent resident. I had to turn away – it was too personal, it hit home.

I don’t know how long we both sat in our reverie, could have been literally forever or mere moments. I fought back some sour thoughts that at least his friend was still around – but then I remembered that his loss wasn’t equal to mine and mine wasn’t equal to his. He’s still lost “Bucky”. Possibly permanently, we don’t know the state of James Barnes today or what it will be tomorrow. SO I clawed down the thoughts with the reminder that everyone’s loss is as big to them as it needs to be and can’t be compared to the next guy’s loss. Besides, how can you overlook the fact that in spite of our losses, we’ve found each other as friends?

So much so that we seemed to be in synch; as I was turning back, he was setting the cap on top of the papers with care and tenderness. He pulled out a few – ok more than a few – military tactical books; some art books; a handful of very fat sketch books. I’d love to get a look at those; I know he draws sometimes, but that seems to be a piece of himself he’s been neglecting.

The little pieces were no less emotional than the newspapers and the hat. A knife; “Morita.” He smiled. “I guess I never got it back to him-and he didn’t get a chance to swipe it back.” He held up a stone; “We would scratch out maps in the dirt; “draw” dirty pictures; this stone had a good edge and none of us wanted to dull or rust our knives. Guess they had to either find a new stone-aged tool or start using a knife. I’m really kind of surprised it made it into the box. Stupid ole rock.” There was a button; “I was supposed to sew this onto Dernier’s coat. I learned sewing/repair work from ma. I enjoyed it-but time –” he stopped, rubbing the button sort of roughly with his thumb. The next out was a shell casing. He turned it around and around before saying anything. I was vaguely sure it was trench art but I was curious. He grinned; a true smile; “It’s kind of rough, but look. Fallsworth was showing off his skills.” As I took a closer look, I saw an unmistakable Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant Barnes; facing away from one another overlooking the field.

“Doesn’t look all that rough to me.” I meant it, it was beautiful.

“He’d done some really detailed ones and he was threatening to toss this one into the fire. He was rushed, and we had been drinking and telling tales, he wasn’t too happy with it. Bucky swiped it from him to see it and handed it to me. “I’m keeping that, Steve.” He said. “Like hell you are, pal, it’s mine.” And I put it into a pocket of my utility belt. I was really going to give it back to him. It was –“, his smile faded, “well, it was the night before Bucky fell.”

It never occurred to me to stop him, he was moving through the box methodically and he was sharing – whether with me or with the space of the room I don’t know.

He bent down, laying the shell casing and button next to the other trinkets, paused before picking up the next item. A leather pouch tied with leather lacing and an ornate hair comb on top. He swiped at his eyes.

“Peggy?” I guessed.

His head almost imperceptibly shook side-to-side; “this was supposed to go home to Bucky’s ma. I’d promised him “in case”. He had found the hair comb in one of the little towns and he was going to send it to Rebecca – his sister. The pouch has a bible and notes to his family. Photos, I think, oh and a couple of drawings of us in the trenches.”

He laid them all aside, probably going to look at them in private, maybe not – he might opt to just hold onto them for Barnes.

He knelt by the box, looking tired, and small even as he repacked everything with the care he’d given them all when he’d taken them out. The only things that stayed out were the trench art shell casing and the pouch with the hair comb. He put the lid on the box before rising. He looked like he was unable to proceed. “I can move the box if you tell me where to put it.”

“Oh! No, Sam. I’ve got it but thank you. It’s heavy with those books – you took a beating last night – I’ll do it.” His sigh seemed heavier than the box.

“Leave it for tomorrow… move it out of the walkway and be done for today.”

He sat back on the chair, “I left them all.” He sighed again.

“You did a good thing. You don’t do things by half – that’s for sure, but you did a heroic thing. If you’d known you’d survive, I’m guessing you’d have given coordinates.”

“I’m still not so sure about that, Sam.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose; “the fight was easy to ignore in the name of doing something good. I’d stopped fighting for my own life by then. It was enough, what I was doing.”

I never really considered Steve to have been suicidal, not for a moment. I’d always thought him too damned honorable and that was the only reason I could imagine him doing it that way. Just like the world, I’d bought into the superhero story until I met him. Even then, though, I thought he was just more of an adrenaline junkie, all that super serum running through his veins. “Have you found the fight?”

“Do you mean am I still looking to end my existence? I’m not. I see there’s so much potential. I don’t want to miss any more of it.”

“Steve, if you don’t find Barnes, or if he **decides** that he doesn’t want what you want, will there still be “potential”?” he had the decency to look appalled… good. At least I’d hoped he was appalled at my question and not at my suggestion that he might find something other than a happy ending with his friend.

“Of course Sam; I’ve had some time to start to come to terms with this new life. It’s not always easy, but I’m working on that. I even have these very annoying friends. One intercepts my belongings and puts me on display just to “fix” me, still others who wait until I falter to see what I’ll do next; and then there’s this one guy who argues with me while agreeing with me – it’s very confusing.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re feeling better. I’ll save my arguments with you for later.”

“Yeah, about that, you wouldn’t mind just hanging around? We could turn on the game or something – I have something I feel I need to do but I’d rather not be alone just now.”

I hung out, hogging most of the sofa – half watching the game while he wrote. “There’s always paperwork; huh?” I said as he pulled out a notepad.

“Nah. I –“, he hesitated; like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how saying it out loud would sound.

“What? It can’t be that embarrassing?”

“Well, I – yeah. Kind of. I have been writing letters to Bucky since ’43. At first they were intended to be mailed but, _“top secret experiment…"._ ” he pointed to himself, “so nothing I mailed ever went anywhere, some was returned to me even; So…” he exhaled, “I stopped sending it. But I kept writing. I’d still intended to send them to him at some point – then I didn’t even give them to him when we were together. They became like a diary or a journal. I still do it, but now I have plans that one day, if he’s willing, he’ll see them.”

“Steve, that’s –“

“I know, stupid. Ridiculous. _Kinky?”_

“Stark’s a jackass. What I was going to say was that it’s very insightful. It’s bound to help you and it might even be cathartic for Barnes.” His pensive posture improved a bit, he even almost smiled.


	3. Rooting for "Jim"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing we have to come to terms with, as soldiers in a war, we will likely kill someone. Or at the very least be instrumental in the killing of somebody. The call I got tonight was from my errant soldier; I got a name tonight-real or fake? I don’t care.
> 
> It had been a while since I’d heard from him and now “Jim” was terribly upset.
> 
> “I’ve done some terrible things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a companion to Bucky's Journal: part one of [Chapter 6: What a Man's Word is Worth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11205709) and shares dialog, the characters' reactions are different

One thing we have to come to terms with, as soldiers in a war, we will likely kill someone. Or at the very least be instrumental in the killing of somebody. The call I got tonight was from my errant soldier; I got a name tonight-real or fake? I don’t care.

It had been a while since I’d heard from him and now “Jim” was terribly upset.

“I’ve done some terrible things.”

“That’s why we’re here. That’s why I take calls. I’ve been there, seen things, done things. I know lots of soldiers who say the same. Do you want to talk about the “things” specifically?”

“God No!” he was sobbing, “God Yes!”

“Take your time, man.” I was supposed to go running with Steve but I had to do this – _“Steve, I have to take this – can we….?” – “Sure Sam, absolutely, any time.”_ and he left me to my call.

He heard the exchange from his end of the line, “Listen, if this is a bad time…”

“No! No, not at all. I don’t need him running me into the ground today. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

 “So, that “Steve”, is that your boyfriend? Or should I not ask?”

In spite of the urgency of the call, that question hit me funny and I laughed, thinking about my relationship with Steve, it was completely nowhere close the truth making it so much funnier; “No, he’s just a ridiculously competitive friend and all around pain in the ass.”

“Annoying.” The guy sounded like he could really sympathize, I laughed some more.

“So, soldier, about you?”

He sighed heavily, “I killed innocent people.”

I waited while he was quiet; expecting him to continue once he didn’t immediately hang up. It seemed like the silence was his self-imposed punishment; “Soldier, you don’t have to tell me anything, but if or when you do, it’s just you and me. Casualties of war are some of the rougher ground we have to navigate. That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

He faltered in his response; “I’m not sure it’s the same thing.”

I don’t know what this man has been through but I’ve heard this before, questionable command can really do a soldier in, I read into his anguish and his words and reached for a reply – and for some reason I felt the only way to get through was an authoritative command tone; “I have only one question for you; were you following orders?”

“I was, sir.”

“Then it’s the same thing.”

“Does it change when the orders are coming from the wrong people?”

“Let’s not let it get too complicated just now. Not until you’re really ready to go into it.” I really wish these guys who get corrupt commanders would have someplace to turn – it’s such a hard place to be – the “boys’ club” mentality of some of the career officers (a select few, I have to emphasize) is so despotic. There’s nowhere to turn for some of these guys. Some of their own unit will side against them if they try to turn in a superior. If only the entirety of the military machine had the moral rectitude of a certain Captain.

He responded with a solemn “I want to be. It’s just so complicated already and I can’t. The trauma, to my head, it’s really made a mess of my memories. The things that I did – I just don’t know the extent of what I did.”

“Let’s deal with them one memory at a time.” I asked if he had considered my earlier suggestion of traditional therapy but he was still not ready for that.

That was made obvious by the way he started to almost panic, “I can’t. Not right now. If you want me to stop calling you I under—“

“Just back it right up soldier. I’ve told you many times, I’m here to hear it all. I’ll help you any and every way I can. If the time comes that you can speak to someone, I’ll be there to introduce you and to talk afterward if you’d like.”

“I …. Yeah ….. I; Thanks Sam”

It took a minute for me to figure out where he got my name then I remembered Steve just before he’d left, “That’s what I’m here for. Now, since that pain in the ass gave you my name, do you have anything you’d rather I call you besides “hey man” or “soldier”?

“Yeah. Ok. Jim” He seemed to hesitate a little, this might not be his real name, but at least it was something.

“Now, Jim, do you want to talk about it? or are you ok to talk about it yet?”

There was another pause, I started to think he was really going to bail on me this time then he answered; “They were targeted just because of who they knew and I ended their lives to send messages. They were just kids – partying. I can’t do this. I – I can’t.”

“Jim” I kept the command attitude, “I’m with you.” I relaxed my tone, “you can do anything. You’re here. You’re getting it out. It’s a big step.”

“I don’t know if I can do it this way.”

“We’ll do it any way you need to. Are you ready for a face to face? I can come to you, or”

“No. Not yet. Let me let you go for now, I’ll call back – I will – but this, I think this was too much – enough for just now.”

“Can you talk to me for a few more minutes, Jim, about just anything? How is the computer?” There were too many times I and others have heard “too much” and found out that it really did feel like “too much” and I desperately wanted to keep him on the phone for just a few more minutes; it took him some time to become verbal again; “I have finished it. You know, I have just a few pieces of furniture. Things I could get free to cheap and fix up.”

“Do you have what you need?”

“Yeah. Is it weird that I sit on the floor when I’m not at the computer/table? I sit in the corner of the room.”

“So there’s nothing beneath or behind you with a full view of the room?”

“How?”

 “I talk to a **lot** of soldiers, Jim. Is the computer chair at the other wall?”

“Yes. Not weird then…”

“To some. Not to me.” No, not to me. I understand the need to be in control of your surroundings.

“What would make you stop taking my calls?”

That question seems odd to someone on the outside-but I’ve gotten it so many times, my response is pretty much the same always. “If, at any point after this call, you do anything to anyone I love. You know my friend’s name and mine and you have my number. I don’t doubt your abilities based on the few things you’ve confided in me, so my life remains unscarred following this talk and we’re good.” He’s got a clean slate with me; has had since the first phone call. These guys need that reassurance. A clean slate is a very good place to start.

“You’re saying you do not care about anything I’ve done before this, your pact to me? You have my word –“, his tone was solemn and a bit urgent, “for what it might be worth to you.”

“Your word is what you make it worth. You tell me your word is golden, I hold you to it.”

The call stuck with me for quite some time. The flags that had been there were easing up, the trust he put in me is cherished. I had already known this “case” was staying with me. Now that he’s opened up enough to give a name – the more I think about his earlier reticence, the more I think it really is his name – I’ve gotten more involved. I want this man, Jim, to succeed.

I sat for some time after, watching the hands on the wall clock. Or not watching them. I thought of the things he said and didn't say, wondering at the horrors he couldn't still put to words. I thought of my own actions and again I thought of Riley. It was a dull pain, not sharp and menacing like it used to be. Once I'd felt guilt that the pain wasn't the same any more - but I had been reminded that this is healing and this is a good thing. About the same time I started to pull away from the melancholy, Steve came in from the run I'd missed. "Hey, did you find someone new to show up?"

"No, saving that for you. Your call go OK? You seem -"

"It was a tougher one. Sometimes I let these guys get under my skin. I really want this guy to do well. And that's all I can really tell you about it."

"Understood. He'll do well - he's got you on his side."


	4. Revelation of Bucky Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sam, Bucky’s in New York? He doesn’t want to see me, but he’ll talk to you.”  
> “I was anonymous – or at least he was and could pretend I was. He’s doing well Steve,”  
> “I can see that, and I’m glad.” I know this man by now, nuances others don’t pick up on and I know keeping away was crushing him. I could hear it in the tightness of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a companion to Bucky's Journal: part two of [Chapter 6: What a Man's Word is Worth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11205709) and Chapter 7: Welcome to the World Bucky Barnes and shares dialog, the characters' reactions are different

I just got off the phone – it was, oh. my. god. What am I going to do? This flies in the face of everything I believe in. No matter what I do I’m betraying someone. One of my best friends or the man I gave my vow of honor to. It’s even more complicated than that, as if that weren’t complicated enough.

He was frantic on the other end, “You’re not going to like a lot of what I have to say.” I waited for elaboration, not expecting it. The awkward pause is strong in this one.

“Ok…”

“Just let me say it all” he was rushing his words out-perhaps fear of not saying what had to be said motivating him, “you can decide what to do with it after. It’s **all** just between you and me, right?” though his words were rushed, they were less so.

Yes. Go ahead, I’m listening. I’ve got your six.”

“I need to meet with you. I can’t come there and I’m not sure yet that you coming to my place is a good idea. Can you come to New York City?” He hadn’t slowed his words much yet, and took a deep breath on the other end of the line.

“Yes, whatever you need.”

“He can’t know.” His voice was panicked.

“Who, Jim?”

“Rogers. – Uh, Steve.” I heard in the background a breathed “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” then into the phone; “Shit, Sam, my name is James Barnes, Sergeant. He calls me Bucky and I might have tried to kill you both.” He basically said that last sentence in one long word.

Oh. my. god. The visions that flashed through my mind from the Potomac; all the times we’d looked for him, everything just trying to fold in on me, I had to hold onto my vow to Jim the soldier, we’d work everything else out as I kept telling him. I took a deep breath, finding words to normalize myself. “Oh…kay…” that didn’t quite work, try again Sam; a deep breath again and; “Jim. This changes nothing.”

If I hadn’t heard the sharp breath on the other end, I’d have thought he’d hung up. I waited for him to continue, the silence making me uncomfortable – giving me time to think more about the crushed looks on Steve’s face every time he was eluded, the crushed look when he found out I knew where his friend was and didn’t tell him. Cut it out, Sam, they both need you on this; “Jim. Are you still with me? Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Are you serious? I mean…”

“I told you, it changes nothing. Don’t worry about anything; just tell me where to be. It’ll be just me, you have my word. Is my word currency, Jim?”

“Unless he’s around, can you stop with “Jim”?” I could hear relief mixed with disbelief in his voice, but took his answer to be a yes, “Or would that make it difficult for you? I hate “Jim”.”

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking me to call him and I laughed, “Seriously? You want me to call you “Bucky”?”

“It’s my name, Sam. I chose to keep it. So yes, if we’re not in a compromised situation, use my name, please.”

“I can do that.” I was nodding; don’t ask. “I’m all for choice and choosing how you want to be called is extremely important. Your sense of self is the most important thing anyone can have.” But it would have been so much easier for me to keep calling him “Jim”.

“I didn’t know it was you when I called that first time. Not until I recognized your voice. I almost hung up but something kept me on the line.” I could sort of see it, him weighing the options of making another difficult phone call or just keep moving forward.

“You didn’t know if you could make that call a third time.” I stated as fact not a question. “So, where do you need me to meet you?”

“There’s this little coffee shop, it’s close to home but, well – you know.”

“Yes; it’s far enough to give you a sense of security. That’s perfect. Text me the address and I’ll be there – will you be ok until tomorrow?”

“Yes. I can make it through; just talking has helped a little. This secret breaking helped too, more than you’d know. I’m sorry to put you in this spot, Sam.”

I gave him my reassurances, mostly even heartfelt. From the conversations we’d had before and after his revelation, I knew I liked him, I can understand his need or secrecy. I can even (with some small difficulty) look beyond the past we shared before he became someone I had made a pact with. We had a time and a place and his promise to call again if he needed.

After taking some time to come to terms with everything that just happened, I started going through some of the donations we’d received, some of the care package stuff we give out to vets and packed a duffel bag to take to him. I didn’t know much about his situation, but I did know that everything he had was stuff he rescued or built himself, he could use this stuff. Steve would be appalled if I didn’t offer him as much as I’d offer any other vet, and this way I can reassure him some day that I was seeing to the wellbeing of his friend while I was hiding him from him.

* * *

Meeting up with him was not something I went into lightly. I didn’t expect to be going into battle this time but I was not going in blindly. He threw me off hat helicarrier like I was so much litter and nearly killed the man who’d survived numerous suicide missions including intentionally crashing a plane loaded with explosives and being frozen for decades, not to mention the mission that saved his own ass. This meeting had to be handled with caution but also with an open mind. Walking through the coffee shop doors might be one of the hardest things I’ve chosen to do. I managed to tell Steve where I was going and why without telling him anything I couldn’t. I was, in fact, meeting with “that one vet I’d been concerned with.”

> _“Sam that’s great! I’m glad he’s making progress. That’s got a lot to do with you.”_
> 
> _“It is great. I’m hopeful; he’s come a long, long way from that first phone call.”_
> 
> _“And that’s all you can tell me.” He grinned that goofy-ass smile._

I made my way in, recognizing him, although he was dressed for the weather and not to kill. He looked far less menacing with his hair pulled back and his layers of shirts and a sweater. He looked frightened, actually. I could see him steeling his nerves and trying to put a brave face on. The hell was he scared of? He was the dangerous one. Shaking that thought away, I made my way over.

He rose and shook my hand when I set the duffel bag down under the table. “Sam, thanks for coming-you have no idea how much it means.” (Ok, I’m more than a little confused, should I be liking this guy already?)

“Of course, I’d do anything for a fellow vet. We’ve invested a lot of time, the two of us. I’m really glad you were ready to do this.”

“Even if the “vet” in question is me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just said I’m really glad you’re at this point.”

“Thank you, Sam, for coming, for not judging me. This can’t be easy for you.”

“It could get tricky, but we made a pact, right?”

“Yeah, but if you want out, I get it. You didn’t know ‘this’” he indicated himself as if it weren’t clear why anything that was happening was happening, “was what you were signing up for.”

“No. No, I did not. However, I did sign up and I owe you what I promised. This **is** weird, for both of us, I’ll bet.”

“More for you, since you’ve only just found out who _I_ am.”

“Don’t kid yourself, I might only just now know who I have been talking to but I know more **about** you than I’m betting you know about yourself, which is why I won’t initiate may topics today. I don’t want to undo any progress you’ve made by feeding you info you don’t have experience dealing with yet. I won’t let you flounder either, if you get stuck, I can prompt you so you can continue.”

“Sam, it’s just like on the phone, kay?” we both had some trouble with moving past the obvious and semi-uncomfortable situations and experienced a couple of false starts before we actually laughed.

“Do you know the last time I laughed? Laughed with someone?” he asked, a sentimental look on his face.

“No,” I frowned at the fact that I hadn’t thought of it, and the thought that he’s been isolated for so long, that the act could be foreign to him but he’d embraced it.

“The night before I fell in 44. We knew that the next day would be crucial and we’d traveled some rough terrain through snow – a blizzard – lots of ice.” I could see the shiver that went through his body and it angered me to think of how this story unfolds. “We were all on edge from the storm and from the coming mission so Dugan broke out his reserves and we were up most of the night swapping stories, trying to one-up each other with our escapades. Every story was a fish tale, embellished to the limits of the sanity of the storyteller. I only remember a few.

“Jones talked about luring a cousin out one night to a speakeasy and abandoning him when the joint was raided, so the cops dragged the boy home to his mama smelling like moonshine, his shirt covered in lipstick.

“Dugan crowed that he’d once had to duck out the window of Hedy Lamarr’s hotel room before her husband could catch him – the night before he shipped out.

“I remember laughing at them, and with them, and then telling them I wouldn’t be able to top them. I think I might have been able to create something out of Steve’s penchant for getting kicked around but why would I kick him too? Yeah, he was the big guy now, pulling my ass out of the fire but I always respected him and I knew his heart was still soft. I wasn’t gonna bruise it. I coulda talked about the girls and made something up to entertain everyone, but I remember starting to feel out of sorts. Like a sense of foreboding. Now that it’s past, I can identify that feeling I couldn’t quite place then.”

He chuckled again at something that was to follow, “Steve told us of his colossal error with Peggy and Stark. Has he told you the “fondue” misunderstanding?”

I hadn’t heard this, I quirked my eyebrow; he told me his second hand story; “Peggy was more than happy to regale everyone with Steve’s naiveté or I doubt I’d ever have heard how he thought “fondue” was a euphemism for sex.” he explained further and we both laughed again.

“Crap. Funny thing is? That was all organic. I just now full-on remembered that whole thing. It’s usually a bigger jumble, pieces missing. The bad stuff has come in full rushes before, not the pleasant stuff. That was mostly pleasant, right?”

I spared him a little laugh; we both of us knew this kind of memory was emotional. “You’re getting used to your rate of recovery. That’s something in itself; don’t let setbacks get to you.” I hesitated to say what came to mind next.

“What Sam?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen a doctor?”

“For what? I’m fit, active, I eat pretty well compared to the lean years before the war, don’t get me started on **during** the war.”

I spared a conspiratorial smile, completely understanding military food references… “You **were** put through a hell of an ordeal.”

“By doctors”

“By _hydra_ doctors” I kept my voice low; it still came out as very critical. At his flinch, either at my tone or their mention, I apologized, “I’m sorry Bucky, That –“

“Will happen. It’s ok. No, no doctors. I make just enough to get by, I don’t have extra. If I catch a bullet I can fix myself up. I doctored Steve so much I could give lectures.”

Again his situation bothered me, he should be at least able to have access to what vets get. I understand the reasons but I'm not happy about it. “You’re living on the outskirts, where it’s dangerous, not only because of those bastards but also I know how to get you your benefits, but you’d have to be processed.” I proceeded with care, watching and saw his jaw tense, his brow knit and his eyes flashed with panic, “Not now – but you should know all that is a possibility in the future.”

“So is prison or execution.” He fearfully managed a harsh whisper.

“I don’t agree, I know logistically that seems possible but I really doubt it.”

“Convincing.” What must a day with this one and that other one be like, all the sarcasm and sass?

“You were a POW. There were all kinds of violations and atrocities against you and your rights. You have a case when you’re ready.”

“I get it. I don’t know, though, this was a big step for me and I still kind of feel like I’m going to vomit. I can’t begin to think about that yet. Besides, I’ll need a team for that and when it comes to it, I will want Rogers on that team. He’s not ready for me yet and I’m not ready for him.”

“He thinks he is.” I know – he tells me **all the time**.

“He thinks he can fix me, bring back “Bucky” that guy – not this amalgam of all the things that makes up who sits before you – the guy who shares a name and a past, but has so much more baggage.”

Barnes had a point there. That was one argument I still have with Steve, he’s starting to see the light but he’s so set on things he believes in. Problem is, when shit happens is you get burned so much harder.

Still, the fact that he’s starting to see things in a new way prompted me to say, “I think you don’t give him – or yourself – enough credit. He’s not the guy you laughed with the night before your fall. He’s seen, done and lost enough since then to be something very different too. That’s the funny thing about people, they’re always changing.

“I’m not pushing; it’s just something to think about. Listen, before I leave the city, would you come to a VA meeting? We can just hang back, close to the door and you can get out any time as long as you let me leave with you.”

“How soon do you need an answer?”

“I’m here for 4 days, so any time before the end of Thursday.”

“I’ll think about it.” the fact that he was considering it was making me very happy.

“That’s all I can ask.”

There was a moment where things seemed to be circulating – thoughts, maybe memories, making him stop, quietly considering his coffee cup. Suddenly the cup was passed out of his way, his head down in his arms on the table and he was sobbing. I waited, this is almost a holy moment – we feel, we cry. Eventually we talk and listen. “Hey man, Bucky, what can I do?”

He was still crying softly, his head never left the table but he lifted his right hand and waved – as a signal for time and space. “Ok, I’m right here. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“That’s a lie.” His head lifted just enough to see his eyes tilted upward in order to see; he looked like a petulant child in a way. “I’m not ready to know anyone respects me, even a little. Not ready to deal with that and the responsibility it brings, but it’s right here.” He gestured in my general direction, “I hate all this crying. I’m not a crying person, am I?”

I stifled a laugh, but not my smile, “Emotions are a bitch, welcome to the world, Bucky Barnes. You deserve respect for all you’ve done to get here.” I palmed the table sharply for emphasis

“Moving forward.” His sigh was a reluctant acceptance. “I keep forgetting this is the direction with all my trying to remember the past.”

“Yet you had a complete memory – even a decent one – just a few minutes ago without even trying. Just work on moving forward with what you have. More will come, some good, some not. Just like before.”

“I’m sorry, it seems we go ‘round and ‘round with this.”

“Until we don’t have to any more, then something else will cycle in.”

“Yeah, not sure I’ll get there.”

“Of course you will. Remember you set your own pace; try not to add road blocks where there are already enough obstacles. I want you to know my goal isn’t to reunite you with Steve. It’s going to happen organically.

“That said; you have to know that I’m in a tough spot because I’m supposed to be helping him find you, and I’ve promised you security. I’m lying to him. I’m only telling you this because you need to know that I’m loyal to Steve and it’s going to be an ugly mess for me when this comes out. That’s something I signed on for when I opened my life up to help on the hotline. That’s something I can’t compromise, as much as I hate compromising my friendship with a very decent man, I can’t compromise my promise to the vets who call the hotline for anonymity.”

“Don’t.”

I looked at him ready to ask what he was doing, or at least to repeat himself.

“Don’t lie to him. Tell him you know; you’re helping me. Tell him you met me today and you just found out the basket case you’ve been using up all your minutes on was me all along. Tell him I’m not ready and I’ve asked you to promise not to betray where I am to anyone yet, especially not to him. Tell him I’m ok and tell him I’m just not ready yet. He has to respect that.”

“I gotta put this out there – I did **not** tell you that to give you guilt. I –“

“I know. You’re his friend – I respect you Sam. He respects you. The reason I’m even here today doing this is because your trust and my respect for you wouldn’t let me leave so much in the dark. I couldn’t keep calling you, knowing I was essentially lying to you. If you go back and you see him, you’ll be in the same position. I can’t do that to you after all you’ve done for me. And I’ve hurt him enough and I know his not being able to get to me after this will hurt him, but not as much as him finding out you’ve been lying to him. You’ll hurt him and I’ll have caused it.”

“You might be underestimating him." he started to protest, "Don’t. Let me finish – You two meet on your terms but what I’m saying is I think he’ll be able to put aside that urgency if he knows, really knows that you’re safe. He’s fierce. Fiercely loyal, fiercely protective, but he is fair and he knows that choice, more importantly, you being able to choose your life is the important thing. If I get him to see that **choosing** recovery, building life skills and getting familiar with who 21 st century Bucky Barnes is before coming home to build a friendship with 21st century Steve Rogers. If he knows that the only one controlling his friend Bucky is **you** he’ll wait and he won’t be hurt.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“Yeah, it’s going around.”

“So,” he sighed, I think he was possibly reluctantly, agreeing with me, “You said you wanted to read my journals?” with little ceremony, he slid a notebook across the table.

“Can I take this? I can get it back to you before I leave – at the VA maybe?” I smiled, trying to get him to agree.

“Let’s plan on it, but I can back out any time. We’ll come for coffee again either way.”

Before I left I passed the duffel bag across the floor to his side of the table, “I didn’t know what you’ve been able to get, what you’d need but the weather is getting worse and I had a bunch of things – if you don’t mind, ‘master of repurposing things’.

“Sam, thanks.” He looked moved.

“Don’t mention it, just – if you can’t use any of it – drop it at the VA”

“Or give it to you the next time I have a meltdown and need a hand to hold?”

“Any time.”

I decided on the heels of all this, that he probably doesn’t get the little extras too often, so I had the barista load a gift card “I know how nice it is to have a little extra treat.”

“I’ll bet you have vets following you around like pups.”

“Just the super soldier variety, seems they need a little extra attention.”

“Thanks Sam – for everything. And good luck with Steve.”

“Yeah! And I’ll see you in a few days. VA and Coffee.” He tried to smile, even though the thought terrified him, I knew he’d be there.

I left him to his coffee and made my way to my hotel. It was shockingly uneventful (thank god) and I can actually see why Steve is so invested in him. He’s a decent guy and seems to be trying so damned hard to make it on the edges of a world where you have to be tied into the system. He’s doing a great job of it from what I can see, and I wouldn’t be lying when I told Steve how I could see that he was holding up for now.

I wrestled with my options. I wouldn’t see Steve again for several days and what I had to tell him should really be face to face, but it was just too big to hold onto for that long. I’d given my word to Bucky when he shocked the hell out of me allowing Steve _any_ information at all about what was going on. The promise to keep Steve at bay until Bucky was ready didn’t allow for “you need to come to New York [so I can tell you this big secret]” followed by “now that you’re in his neighborhood, you can’t go anywhere near…” so I just laid it out for him over the phone.

“Sam, how did it go?” were the first sounds out of him through the speaker, so much for easing into this.

“Steve, I have something to tell you – and you need to be patient and listen to the whole thing before going off halfcocked.” I waited for the exasperated sigh and tight response.

“Sam?” there it was.

“Turns out the vet I’ve been talking to was one and the same as the man we’ve been looking for.” Innocuous, successfully delivered.

“What?” that was less innocuous, no longer exasperated and much more intense than just a “tight” response. "Sam what are you saying?” ok, incredulous I can handle.

“I found out yesterday that the man I’ve been talking to is your Sergeant James Barnes. He didn’t tell me and the things he did tell me were vague enough to have been anyone. He felt he needed to move to the next level and even though he knew who I was from the beginning, he wanted to be open about it. He met me in a public place and he doesn’t want to be found yet.”

I waited. I saw his continued silence as permission to continue. “Initially he didn’t want you to know and in all honesty, even though I was afraid it would cost me our friendship, I was planning to keep this from you because I had made a pact with him before I knew anything that everything he confided in me was between him and me only. The only reason I’m not keeping it from you now is that he felt badly about me keeping it from you.”

“Sam, Bucky’s in New York? He doesn’t want to see me, but he’ll talk to you.”

“I was anonymous – or at least he was and could pretend I was. He’s doing well Steve,”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” I know this man by now, nuances others don’t pick up on and I know keeping away was crushing him. I could hear it in the tightness of his voice.

Those who know me know I don’t go I for that ‘told you so’ BS but the tone I had to take with him was close. Close enough to bother me even as I said, “You want him to have choices back; to make his own call. You need to put your trust in that; leave him be Steve. I promise he’s hale and hearty. He’s providing for himself and I don’t know if he has **everything** he needs but I brought a pretty good care package to help out. He’s ok Steve.”

His rush of breath was punctuated with “FUCK” and I was proud – that was the equivalent of “you’re right Sam and so damned smart too.”


	5. Troubleman & Bird-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was impressed with his skill with words – it might be one of those “greatest generation” things because he definitely shares that skill with Steve. “I can tell by the progression of your journal and these past two meetings I think you’re well on your way to taking back your life.”
> 
> “Recreating. There’s nothing left to take back, like you said, even Steve is different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this is Sam's perspective on Bucky's Journal: Chapter [8\. Troubleman](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4815464/chapters/11338885) both chapters share dialog, there is some extra dialog in this chapter that was alluded to in Bucky's Journal.

I really didn’t expect Barnes to make it to the VA so I was surprised and proud when he first called to let me know he was late but he _was_ coming and again when he did show up, duffel bag (looking significantly emptier than when I gave it to him – a detail that should please Steve) in hand. He didn’t exactly smile when he greeted me with a handshake; it tried to be a smile and I’m sure it was the best he could do; that first time, it takes a lot out of you to just be there. I know this wasn’t his idea and it was probably pretty tough for him to take every step he did to get there.

As I’d promised, we stayed where he was most comfortable, I stepped inside, and he remained on the outside of the doorway. I just leaned against the wall and listened – he lingered nearby for some of the session and sort of disappeared behind the wall I was leaning on. I checked at one point to see if he’d vanished and he was still there, almost clinging to the wall, with his eyes closed but listening. I touched his shoulder carefully and he looked at me, nodding that he was ok. Once I was convinced, I returned to my spot, letting him handle it with the tools he had, in a way he felt able to. I hoped that these men and women’s stories would be helpful for him to hear, for him to know he really isn’t alone and I really hoped that nothing would set him off and unravel the work he and we have done.

I shared a bit of the story that was currently unfolding, talking about being a volunteer and taking hotline calls and really just being there for others and how even though the first instinct is to avoid it because it might be too painful, it really is not as hard as all that – and each small win for the person I helped felt like something I could really get behind. I was careful to not mention today’s win – not wanting to bring any unwanted attention to Barnes, but sharing how our many months of late night and mid-day phone calls had finally progressed to a successful face-to-face meeting.

We left the bag and its contents for the organizers to put to good use and headed out into the cool, rain-washed air. I hailed a cab and the ride was silent. He needed space and I was content giving it to him. The silence was peaceful enough that it carried over into the coffee shop we’d met at just days ago. He ordered something complicated, irredeemably sweet and syrupy and I ordered a black coffee. We took a table near the wall – his choice; not leaving an open space at his back.

“You know, Steve’s first VA meeting was spent with him standing in the doorway too.”

“Yeah?” he seemed to be considering what that might mean, his frown deepening before it vanished.

“Second too, actually.” I smiled at the thought “I think he still thinks he was just there to visit me.”

“That wasn’t terrible. Thanks Sam.”

I remembered why he was late meeting me at the VA “So, did you still want to talk about your moment?”

I think he’d forgotten all about it, he hesitated before smiling a little weakly, “I couldn’t take the train – I don’t do trains well – you might imagine. I left early enough to walk, it was only raining a little, I don’t mind the rain.”

“Reasonable.”

“The clouds were looming over the water but there was this small break where the light was trying to force its way through, but it looked so weak I didn’t think anything would come of it yet it seemed to just keep pushing back. The gray clouds around the sun thinned and almost pulsated as the gold kept pushing back the gray in this epic battle to gain ground. I watched as the gold light seemed to overthrow the gray sky, and thought how it was like a visual representation of what’s been happening to me lately, opening up and finding the light I had doubted was inside. I thought it was doused long ago.”

I was impressed with his skill with words – it might be one of those “greatest generation” things because he definitely shares that skill with Steve. “I can tell by the progression of your journal and these past two meetings I think you’re well on your way to taking back your life.”

“Recreating. There’s nothing left to take back, like you said, even Steve is different.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t want you in his life.”

“I know. I want that too, eventually. It might be a while, it might not, look how quickly I came around to this.”

I nodded. “I talked to him last night, told him what you said I could. He called back this morning asking me to ask you a favor.” His look was almost that of betrayal, “– No, he respects your need for space. He wanted me to just ask you if you could leave the hydra situation to “ _us_ ” until we get to the last roundup. He said he’d stand back and watch you clean house then.”

“It’s not his fight, Sam.”

I couldn’t let that one slide, I know how hard I’ve rallied behind this exact argument with Steve that this **is** Bucky’s battle more than his, but I’ve been there watching Steve and his suffering – and realized that I was unfair to Steve, so I would start to make it up by letting _this one_ know how it really stands. “It damn well is! Hydra stole  **both**  your lives, tortured his best friend; made him have to watch his wartime sweetheart die of old age and they’re still chasing  **both**  of you. He knows it’s more your fight than his, he also knows you’re a more valuable target. You could easily be compromised going in without backup. He wants to work  _with_ you as a team but since that’s a definite “no”…”

“I can’t agree to his terms.” (These two stubborn warriors) “ **but…**  I’m keeping very busy with jobs that take a lot of my time recently and I haven’t had time for research, recon or to even get enough gear together to even consider a mission lately, so… tell him to hurry it up or I’ll be back out there before he can do what he thinks he can do. If he doesn’t remember me at that so called “last roundup” I’ll remember him.

"I don’t know when it took a priority over hydra, I think all of these feelings are making me soft.” He grouched, his face twisting into a frown.

I could tell he was serious and I know how passionate he’s become over the work he’s been doing to live as normal life as possible, but I couldn’t help a little chuckle at his theatrics, “not with that look on your face.”

“Very funny.” He grimaced, frustrated, I’m sure with my irreverence.

 “Nope. Not soft.”

“Yeah?” his features turned as soft as the playboy you’ve seen in the history books, “How’s this for soft? Could you ask him…”

“No. No, no. I won’t play telephone. If you have something to say, use my phone but for god’s sake, be an adult – and I’ll tell him the same thing.” I reached for my phone and started pulling up Steve’s contact; he paled, “It’s the phone, Bucky. You’re good on the phone.” I hit send and thrust the phone at him, actually surprised when he took it from me.

I tried not to listen but that just didn’t work; he wiped away tears as he mentioned his mother asking for Steve to sketch her. I nearly had to wipe my own eyes at the poignancy.

When he was through, he nearly shoved the phone at me, “Not bad.”

“Yeah, that’s what you say.”                                    

“You’re good Bucky.” At his frown, I continued, “It’s ok, really –“

“It was not good.”

“A guy needs his mama” I found a photo with my mom and me on my phone and showed it to him.

“Jerk.”

“You’re ok.” I assured him, feeling relieved, “You made his day.”

“Wasn’t my goal.”

“Best kind of good deed… the unintentional one.”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

“Buy you a pastry to make it up?”

“How  **do**  you get anything done if you can’t be serious?”

“The last thing you want is to have  _me_  get serious. You’re not shaking any more. Remember the sunlight in the clouds? It’s a good day, Bucky.’

“It’s not a bad one.” His agreement came reluctantly.

We finished coffee and pastries – he sighed with pleasure as he enjoyed the pastry, I’m sure his typical fare consists of healthy, basic food with nothing of the “extra” variety, so I’m glad we added this treat to his long day. We talked for a while longer; I told him some of my past, about my service and losing Riley. He has a real compassionate nature that is still surprising to me – even though it shouldn’t be. I’ve heard all the stories of him and Steve coming up, before the serum, when Steve was weak and sickly, friends with this playboy of a guy who spent time entertaining and caring for his sick friend on many occasions he could have been out dancing. That is a compassionate man. Another piece of his own self he’s maintained or recovered.

As we wound down our visit, I gave him his journal and a list of music to add to his musical journey. “I told Steve about that one the day I met him. Check it out.”

He chuckled; “Troubleman huh?”

“I could really call you that you know. Given our complete history and that “Bird-Man” crap.” He laughed, a real hearty laugh, surprising me and possibly himself. I don’t even know what to say about how much joy he found at calling me Bird Man just to amuse himself through his recovery.


	6. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " ...Do you think you never considered your true feelings out of some misguided sense of honor? I’m not dismissing your love for Peggy Carter. I know that was always true and deep and real, but isn’t it possible that you love Barnes just as deeply?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short, but necessary to move forward in Steve's and Bucky's stories. Sam's entries are finally caught up to the rest of the works.

I’ve been fielding vets’ calls from some regulars and initial calls from yet more so life hasn’t been quiet. On the flip side, the case I’m most invested in, of course is Barnes. Things have been going relatively smoothly for him, he’s checked in by phone and text a few times just to keep in touch, which is a real change and I think a healthy step. When he did have an episode; it wasn’t even me that got the call, instead he used the number I’d sneaked into his journal. He called Steve. Of course I didn’t put it there for that, just wanted him to have the digits in case he wanted to reach out but I’m proud that he made the call.

About a week later, Steve had another train nightmare, woke and took off running. I wish it had happened the way it sounds. I wish he’d decided to “take a run” but that’s not how it went down. He fled from his horror on foot and wound up in the alley by Barnes’ place. These two are turning me into a mother hen. I need to get out more.

After Steve’s escape from himself and spending the day with Barnes, he said he’d wrestled with the idea of telling me what had happened or not telling me. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m glad he chose to talk to me about it.

“Sam, I saw Bucky today. It wasn’t under the best circumstances, I’d had a nightmare and I bolted. I didn’t even know where I was going until I found myself there. I was in the alley behind his place.” I’m pretty sure I stood there gaping at him, “I wasn’t going to tell you, I didn’t want you getting upset – thinking I was unraveling what you and Bucky have worked so hard on. It just happened, I didn’t think about anything and I know that could have been problematic.”

“Steve, you’re getting too worked up over this. Did things go wrong?”

“No, Bucky did everything right. He didn’t even hesitate. He could have gotten away with spending a lot less time with me – but he didn’t.” he stopped to consider something, “We seem to have an open line of communication now, I think I ought to take that slowly though. I don’t want the emotions from today to force him into a friendship he’s not ready for.”

“That’s a very strong observation; and a tough choice for you. I’m proud.”

In the days since, I got two texts from Barnes:

> “last night sucked, tell Rogers he should do his shitty dream thing when others aren’t sleeping  
>  oh but he can call any time – like I told him.  
>  and today wasn’t half bad.”
> 
> “doing well. last night was amazing.  
> slept like a baby – and nobody called to wake me.”

He's growing on me.

Steve came to me with a lightness I’d never seen in him; this Atlas has shifted his load. “Bucky called today Sam. He wants to have a weekly coffee meet-up.” His burden seemed to budge a little, “He did seem to have a memory surface while we talked, I don’t know that it was a good one." he frowned, "He said he was fine and just needed to process it.”

“It’s cool. You can’t fix everything; and not every memory will trigger an episode, even if they’re tied to strong emotions. Let him do what he needs to. He knows we’re here if he needs the support and he has the tools to get through an episode.”

“I really wish. I just wish there was more I could do. If he'd just let me help him with more.”

“Steve.” I decided to bring up a theory that I’d been considering for some time. I discovered what I was about to say was not the easiest thing to just bring up to your friends; but the more I thought about the entries in Barnes journal and how they always seemed like he was on the verge of remembering an unrequited love for Steve, and Steve’s near obsession with finding, rescuing and helping Barnes the more I knew I had to at least say something. “I know you two have a shared history and your bond as friends, as brothers, goes way back. It’s a new world, Steve. If there were more to your relationship – you’re in the perfect century to embrace it.” Yeah, my gift for words was a-of this century and b-a little off due to my hesitance to shake things up (especially reluctant to mess up Barnes’ recovery steps). Even delivered with zero smooth style, he seemed to work out what I was saying.

“Sam? That’s” I think he was about to dismiss it and, as a spark came into his eye, reconsidered. “Where is this coming from?”

Knowing his recent commitment to opening up more of himself, I had the perfect reply, “Your self-honesty campaign. Could you be in love with Barnes? Times were different then. Back then, there you were, always so focused on doing what was right, not taking time for yourself. Do you think you never considered your true feelings out of some misguided sense of honor? I’m not dismissing your love for Peggy Carter. I know that was always true and deep and real, but isn’t it possible that you love Barnes just as deeply?”

“Sam.” He stopped again, he’s fast, his thought processes and tactical planning, always in motion and I could practically see thoughts swirling behind his eyes. “I need to think.” He brushed his fingers through his hair – a nervous tick I’d noticed a while back, “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Do I need to tell you to stay out of trouble?”

“If I was getting into trouble I’d drag you with me.” Yeah, I didn’t doubt it.


	7. Sam's Peace

The quiet from super soldiers in love is a crazy thing. There was a strange peace in my life that I hadn’t known since before meeting _Captain America_. I had been working on finally finding that peace when the lost guy with the reluctant grin and incredible weight on his shoulders entered my life – along with his insane devotion to a memory, a buddy, an assassin. That was where I really learned that personal peace was something you really had to work for. Yeah I’d thought I knew that before, schooling myself and other veterans of the fact. But I had to really pull it from the tendrils of the smoke that seemed to move him forward with every lead. I had to make time for it even when I was trying to keep the world from burning in his wake by pulling him back before he could get too deep. Even then I didn’t question my devotion to this man, this new friend who seemed to need someone to keep him centered. He has never been selfish with our friendship – always giving as much as I would force him to take in the form of kindness and companionship.

Being found _by_ Barnes helped me maintain my personal sense of peace, because now the world wasn’t going to spontaneously combust if Steve Rogers stepped the wrong way looking for a “ghost”. When the two of them went against Barnes’ own request and ended up finding each other, my world was again in a weird place. I was now friends with somebody without a personal mission (for the first time in several years), tentative friends with somebody who’d tried to kill me and kind of abandoned by the two of them in their zest for finding out what this new thing they had was.

I only entertained that feeling for a minute before realizing I really don’t want to be privy to the lovesick infancy of their relationship. I did have a lot of extra time on my hands though, since morning runs turned into their morning gym time. So I made morning runs my thing again and I took to Barnes’ favorite coffee shop afterward. It is a great place, so inviting and the food and coffee is always perfect making it the best place for an after run coffee.

The first time I’d walked in, I'd been looking for Barnes, I'd been watching for threats and I missed the homey atmosphere. I didn’t even take the time to take it in as we talked because of everything that had been going on at that point. I just remembered that the food and the coffee was great and the people were pretty cool.

The first time I walked in with no agenda, no real care or concern, I took it all in and realized that the homey, cozy atmosphere with thrift-store find furniture might have been part of the draw for Barnes. The window offered prime real estate with a large, overly cushioned sofa, opposite it sat another, smaller sofa, less fussy than the one in the window. Two chairs flank them with a coffee table in the center. Perpendicular to the entrance stood a wall of shelves with handcrafted coffee mugs for sale, books and bags of coffee all artistically arranged. The counter tempts you from across the room as you enter the place with all the decadent pastries under glass. Gleaming on one side of the counter is a noisy, life-giving espresso machine.

I looked to the corner just to the left of the counter, where I'd sat with Barnes the first time; it had been changed from the tall bistro table and stools we had used to two large, plump, leather chairs facing one another with a square coffee table between them. The art on the walls keeps changing – it looks like they might feature a different artist weekly, Steve should see about putting his art (once he actually puts his plan to work) here. There are trees and plants in corners, nothing overbearing, just adding to that homey and comfortable feel.

The people there are still great. The morning crew consists of a quiet young guy named Marcus, everything he makes is the prettiest, most delicious thing I’ve seen or tasted, he could be on the food network or something. Marcus is really a friendly kid, he just keeps to himself. I think he’s spoken to me once aside from taking my order. He’s working in case he doesn’t get that basketball scholarship he’s really nervous about. I’d like to tell him that his height alone should get him the scholarship but that would be ridiculous. Kid’s crazy tall though.

Then there’s this amazing presence there in the form of a girl. She’s beautiful, with uncanny green eyes. She’s got to be the friendliest person on the planet! I’ve seen her interact so charmingly with every customer in the place. She’s not harassing anyone, but her natural presence is open, honest flirtation.

I hadn’t been able to pin down her name once in the month or so I’d been coming in, her hand-drawn name tag had a different name on it every time I went in there, tree names, forest names, I respect that. I just call her whatever is on her badge. Doesn’t bother her? Doesn’t bother me.

The morning after a brutal mission, I was picking up breakfast and I was on the phone with Steve, to get his and Barnes’ order. That’s when I guessed that her name might _actually be_ ‘Ember’ since her badge hadn’t changed in a while.

She’s always flirting, actively so, and I never seemed to know the right time to not just flirt back but to go for it and ask her out. After the whole tiresome mission from the day before, all it’s futility and with everyone narrowly escaping death by bullet wounds (super soldier and spy – hit, archer and falcon – missed) or beatings (I was still pretty lucky, just pretty bruised up) I was suddenly tired of waiting and wondering and practice flirting.

Even though she was more actively flirting with my phone when she found out who was on the other end than she’d been with me, I didn’t let that deter me. I was bound and determined to crack down on the level of stupid that I would typically not accept from my friends let alone from myself.

“So, you’re off to see those two lovebirds today? You had a hand in shoving Steve along didn’t you?” she asked, “You’re a good friend Sam.”

“He’s reluctant to enjoy anything. It’s shameful. I on the other hand am **not** reluctant to enjoy what life puts before me. So, Ember? Would you be free for dinner tonight?”

“Well, Sam. I thought you’d never ask.”

“You don’t seem the type to wait for someone to ask.”

“Not typically, but let’s be honest, it’s nice when someone thinks enough of you to want to spend time with you. I just wanted to see if you thought enough of me.” She smiled and ran her finger across my jaw. “Sam, I’d love to have dinner with you, but please, allow me to cook.”

“That’s not exactly traditional.”

“Do I look like a traditional girl to you?”

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

“No.” she smiled that amazing smile that makes everything around just that much brighter. “Let me finish gathering your order, Marcus is nearly finished with the food – extra cream on the side for Bucky – that boy and his whipped cream. I swear; he’s worse than a kid. Keep it separate from the other food so you don’t end up wearing a melted mess. The preserves will be in that bag as well.” She scribbled something on my receipt, “This is my address, how’s 6:30 sound?”

“Sounds like a date.” I grinned, you can’t help but grin in her presence, watching her glide around gathering everything for me, Steve and Bucky as well as the people who came in after me – giving everyone ample smiles and attention and making everyone feel as important as everyone else.

At least until she came back around the counter with two bags in addition to the cold bag she’d already handed me, then, I suspect, I got just a little extra attention when she stepped up onto her toes and kissed me solidly but softly on the lips. “Not traditional at all Sam Wilson. Not at all.” She smirked, patting my cheek before going back to her job.

“Yeah – see ya at 6:30.” I laughed my way out the door.

I wasn’t exactly nervous about visiting Steve’s place with Bucky there – I just didn’t know what the dynamic would be like. I’d seen Steve at my place or in a meeting but not at his place since Bucky moved in. I knew they were finding their way but nothing further. When I'd seen his text after we got called up, I’d wondered what yesterday had been like for Bucky, to let Steve go off on a mission, unable to go along, unable to fight or watch Steve’ back. I had no idea if that was something he wanted to do, he’d sounded so done with fighting when he said that Steve could take all of the information he’d gathered. It really is ok to be done, but it’s not always what happens in the long run. I’m proof of that.

When I got there it seemed like a normal day, Steve was at the door when I rang, wearing only jeans, looking like he hadn’t been there fighting alongside me just a day before. I’ll never really get used to that. “Hey Sam! Thanks for stopping off for breakfast. I would have insisted I cook if it hadn’t been for Ember’s stuff.”

“I know what you mean – she’s magical.”

He chuckled, “We keep saying that too.”

“So where’s the other half?” I asked, trying to decide whether or not to say anything about my date before finding out how it would turn out.

“He’s sleeping – believe it or not, he had a rough day yesterday.”

“He was worried about you, of course it was difficult.”

“Rough. I got home and he was on the roof, had been for the better part of the day to hear him tell. No coat. He thinks he “checked out”.

“Woah, yeah that qualifies as rough.”

“He’ll trivialize it if you ask about it. Go out of his way to make out like it’s nothing.”

“I won’t bother him with it. You might want to brace yourself for if it becomes “something”.”

We started unloading the bags of food, Steve popped the hot stuff into the oven to bring it back to warm and put the cold stuff in the fridge for Bucky. “I have a date tonight.” I finally offered, not wanting to be caught talking about Bucky if he came out soon.

Steve looked over his shoulder from the fridge, “a date? Hmm. Someone I know?”

“Well, yeah. I asked Ember out, we’re having dinner at her place.”

“Hmm… that’s awkward.” He grinned, I actually considered not asking what he meant because of that look, but I really wanted to know.

“What’s awkward – you two….? You three????”

“Of course not – I mean, no it never came to that.”

“But you’d considered it.” Why was I here?

“I’d considered it. I really had thought about it – which makes it awkward. But I never even said anything, it was just a thought I’d had.”

He was blushing. The more he talked the redder he got. “Well, imagine that. Captain America. What would the world think?”

“I don’t even – we never discussed this.”

“Oh yes we have. This can’t be brushed under the carpet. You said it out loud – to me. It was a discussion.” I laughed at his discomfort.

It was about then that Bucky came out, looking sleep deprived and weary. It seems I was overdressed; he too was wearing only jeans, shirtless and didn’t seem to care.

“Mm, what’s that I smell?” he yawned.

“How about waffles with bacon and eggs? Sam stopped at Ember’s on the way.” Steve greeted him with a kiss. I had thought I’d be uncomfortable in their burgeoning relationship but it was the most comforting thing to actually see both of these guys at ease with each other, their shoulders rounded softly as they stood, instead of hardened, tense and battle ready.

“Yes please.” He responded to the offer of breakfast with a smirk, “I could kiss you Sam, come on over here.” He teased.

“Not unless you put a shirt on!” I shot back at him.

“Sam! I didn’t know you were so sensitive!”

“Aww hell no. I don’t want to make _him_ jealous look at him – you’ve seen him fight. Besides, you do know it’s winter out there – freezing temperatures?”

“Not in here – it’s warm and cozy. If a shirt will get me a kiss, I’ll go get one now.” And he was back in the bedroom then out again with two shirts in a flash. One of the shirts he tossed at Steve’s head, while he shrugged into the other one, “If I have to wear clothes so do you.”

He came past me, kissed the top of my head like I was a child, opened and stood in the glow of the refrigerator. “Don’t say I never kissed you Sam.” He called out, pulling the cold, cream container out along with some juice.

“You are so weird.” Was all I could say as I was actually enjoying this humorous moment.

“Won’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Or the last.” Steve piped up from under the shirt he was pulling on over his own head.

“Funny Rogers.” Bucky supplied while pulling food out of the oven. “I take it this is yours, Sam. This has to be Steve’s. And then there’s mine.” He passed plates across the counter.

“Buck, those redcurrant preserves are over on top of the refrigerator.” Steve handed me money at the same time. “Hopefully that covers it. Let me know if I’m short.”

This domestic synergy was a bit of a shock but it seemed that at least some sense of normality was grounding them both.

“Buck, Sam’s going out with Ember – do you have anything to tell him?” he teased. Oh god I hope he was teasing.

“Yeah I do. Be good to her, she’s very special.”

“Oh? Is that all?” I asked, relieved for some odd reason.

“Yeah. What? You all think I? and she? Aw no – I only learned her name a couple of weeks ago. Geez people.” He complained, “Before this one,” he smacked Steve on the shoulder, “I hadn’t had sex in ages. Even then it wasn’t for _my_ pleasure.”

“Ok! Too much information.” I objected.

“On to less intimate, less pleasant discussions,” Steve laughed, “About the mission – Bucky you still want to know?”

“Yes and no. Do I have to choose?” poor guy went pale. I caught his eye looking for some cue that he couldn't take it – he nodded slightly, an 'ok' to proceed.

“Of course not, we’re telling you – you said I had to -” Steve replied, I looked up – thinking he was being an ass, but he had taken Bucky’s hand, “it’s ok Buck, we’re right here – see.”

“We can stop at any time – you just say the word.” I added – I’m more invested in his well being now that I’m getting to know him on a more personal level, not to mention he’s the love of my best friend’s life.

“Fine – go on.” He replied, taking a big bite of waffle covered with preserves and whipped cream.

We told him all the details, both of us getting a little too involved in the competition of telling the most entertaining version of the truth to pay much attention to how it was being received. All in all, he seemed to take it well and never called time out on the retelling so I assumed that he was taking it in stride. Uncomfortable conversation continued when the topic turned to Steve’s current obsession of getting Bucky “back in the world”. I know it’s a sore spot between them because although Steve wants what’s best for Bucky – he also thinks that this is what’s best. Bucky is not convinced. He’s terrified of the worst case scenario and to be honest, he has every reason to be afraid.

That won’t stop us from trying. I promised Steve long before I met Bucky. I even signed on with Bucky - to help him long before I met him in person, this is really all part of the promise to help.

He asserted himself when it came to the defense strategy that Steve is so engrossed in – that’s very good. He also showed that he'd reached his limit with the whole thing when he turned things back onto me.

“So, you’re going out with our girl huh?” he asked ending a moment of collective silence. “How long has this been going on?”

“I’ll be having my first date tonight. I’ve been working my way into her heart for a month.” I lied.

“You mean sitting and swigging coffee and reveling in her flirty behavior.”

“Well, ok, if you have to put it that way. I have been lazy about it but she’s enjoyable. “I finally came around.”

“I said it earlier – be good to her.” His face was just a bit hard before melting into a smile. I’m not sure I’ll get used to that.

“Believe me, I mean her no harm. She’s very special and I like her.”

“Don’t worry – I’ll give her the same warning about you.” He shoved my shoulder congenially. Yeah, not sure I’ll get used to that either. “Anyone who’s as good to Steve as you are is pretty special too. You also picked me up when I needed it on many occasions. You’re a real keeper Sam.”

“Ok – it’s getting awful thick in here.” I responded, “I don’t know how we’ll ever dig out.”

Steve was standing across the apartment, looking over his project again, and Bucky’s jaw clenched briefly, “Hey, you know we defer to you on this – no matter how kamikaze he gets about things right?”

“Well that was the agreement, but you know how he is. I’ll give him space just like I said I would, I might have to leave from time to time.”

“If you need to talk to anyone about him and “how he is” I’m still available 24/7 – even more so since we’re becoming friends.”

“I know Sam, and I appreciate it. I’ll give him room and if I need to I’ll call you. I just like not needing to do that.”

“Emergencies aside – I mean it, sometimes you just have to complain. No judgment. It’s not weak.”

“Roof?” he said quietly and I nodded.

Once we were bundled up and outside he pulled out a cigarette, “Trying to quit – but this…”

“Yeah, so you’re ok huh?”

“Nope. I hate all of this. I want to have what we’re working on, more than anything, then all he has to do is start looking at or talking about his plans for my future **and** I want to disappear again. I’m fighting a battle I haven’t told him about.”

“Disappear because of the fear?”

“Well it’s not because I like being cold and flying under the radar, of course it’s the fear. I melted down so bad the other day. I’m not supposed to be that fucking fragile.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why can’t you be? Why are you _not supposed to be_ fragile?” I looked at him, waiting for a negative comment.

“Because.” His eyes were closed, the cigarette in his hand just short of his lips, “It’s not acceptable.”

“Not acceptable to you? Or?” his pained look answered my unfinished question, “You’re a free agent Bucky. You decide what’s acceptable and it is human nature – we’re fragile by design. You might have enhanced strength and healing and god knows what else but you’re also just a man. You might want to start seeing it as acceptable because it is. If you falter and have a breakdown you acknowledge it for what it is and you move on. Would it help you connect to that if I were to call you when I have a bad moment?”

He chuckled, a sort of bitter sound, “I don’t think I’d be much help.”

“Sure you would, we reach out but what we really need when we make a phone call or grab onto someone close is for someone to pick up the other end of the line or hold on when they’re grabbed. If there’s an answer to the call it’s enough.”

“Well, if the expectations are that low, sure – call whenever. That’s what friends are for.” I think he was serious, even though his tone was flippant.

“Don’t go disappearing. I’m serious. You think he’s on a mission right now? You’ll have nowhere to hide. I will not have a moment’s peace. I’ve enjoyed peace. Don’t do it.”

He smiled, “Well far be it for me to knowingly disturb your peace. I really do want to stay; disappearing is only worst case scenario.”

“Take it off the table. I just got you to commit to answering my desperate calls, I can’t do that if you go and take off.”

“Yeah, can’t do it if I’m incarcerated or dead either Sam.”

“You really have to stop with the martyrdom. You have a fighting chance with this.” Even though I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, I had nearly as much hope as Steve did. “You have him in your corner, and you have me. I’m not even there because of him.”

He huffed a harsh laugh, “right Sam.”

“Ok not entirely because of him, I’m there for you as a friend too. I mean if you’re going to give Ember the “be good to him” speech I really have to consider you a friend.”

“Well I don’t just do it because of what you mean to Steve. You’d been a solid friend to me before I reconnected with him. You’ve put up with a lot between his craziness and mine. How do you do it? How do we make this one-sided thing up to you?”

“It’s not about sides, or who needs the attention more. It’s about being there when you’re needed. You’re a loyal son of a bitch Barnes and I’m sure you will be there when you’re needed.”

He put out the butt of the cigarette on the wall and palmed it, “I’m honored to have your faith. I’m also fucking cold; let’s go in where it’s warm.”

“Let’s find out if we were even missed.”

It wasn’t too long after we returned to the warm apartment that I made my excuses to go meet my beautiful dinner date. “Sam thanks so much for coming over and bringing food. I can’t believe we managed to monopolize your whole day.”

“Steve if I’m hanging with friends, talking shop and watching sports. That’s what you call a good day.”

“I second what Steve said though, thanks so much for everything. Don’t forget what I said, about Ember and well, everything – you need anything – you call.” He pulled me in for a crushing hug, a first… “Anything.” I looked at these two men, these super human people with bruises no one can see and found myself really considering them _both_ brothers.

\-----

I went from their place to Ember’s with a detour to pick up flowers and wine. Ringing the call button made me feel like a kid getting ready to ring and run, “come on up, Sam.” Her voice was nothing like a scolding though and I relaxed, but just a little.

She greeted me at the door with a big hug, what a relief it was that this was not going to be a typical first date, she’s so warm and emotionally open. “Come in,” she gracefully took the flowers and wine bottle and they were on the counter before I had a chance to catch my breath. “They’re beautiful! I love the colors Sam, you sweetheart.” She was back at my side kissing my cheek and taking my coat.

“You should relax, I’ll be here awhile.” I cautioned. “What is that amazing smell?”

“Just a little Cajun cooking.” She smiled getting a vase for the flowers, “straight from ‘Mamere’s (my grandmother) Recipes’ collection. She never wrote a thing down but you’d better bet I did! Followed her around for weeks before I came here so I could write everything she made down. I don’t want to get stuck without some home cooking when I’m homesick.”

“Are you?”

“Homesick? Not presently – but it has happened. I wanted to share some of me on this date, you can get just about anything here in the city but you won’t find good Cajun food from a nonnative Cajun – and I happen to be a displaced native Cajun.”

“I never would have guessed – you’re accent free.”

“Not when I’m with family, but yeah, it melts away when I’m away. I tend to ‘borrow’ from people I’m around. I often wonder if it’s connected to my being an empath.”

“You’re an empath? I’m sure you hear this a lot “so people often say I must be an empath” but really I’ve been asked too many times not to mention it. I consider it more that I _have_ empathy. When you say you’re an empath you actually feel?”

“Yeah, it can be really exhausting depending on who I’m around. I like being around you, your feelings are always so calm. Come to think of it Sam, you might have a touch of the gift and you could probably tap into it if you wanted to.”

“Or I could leave that to you. I’m around some pretty emotional people all of the time, I don’t think I could handle tapping into anything that would magnify those feelings.” She laughed at me but the understanding on her face was clear.

“We’ve got a few more minutes before it’s ready, come. Sit with me while the oven does the hard work.” She led me to the sofa, sat and pulled me down beside her. I looked around, taking in her apartment, which was as eclectic and comfortable as her coffee shop. “Your home is very nice.”

“Thanks, I think it’s cozy, I love cozy. I have a love affair with consignment shops – you might have guessed by the shop.”

“You and Barnes – he’s done some work on reclaimed furniture, sure it was out of necessity, but I think he likes the process.”

“He talked to me about some pieces at the shop, offered to fix this or that and several months ago I had him do just that. Sam – what you’ve done for him is just wonderful.”

“I didn’t do much,”

“Nonsense – he told me about how you were there for him, even when he thought you might not feel comfortable about it. That’s brave, Sam. And then there’s that Steve, with his bottled up emotions and righteous sense of… everything. He’s so lucky to have a friend like you, oh how you must want to tear your hair out at times.” She laughed. “But that’s enough about those two. They mean the world to me and they brought you to me, however, tonight is just about the two of us.”

“Thank you! I just spent the day with the two of them you might recall, I’ve said ‘good bye’ to them. Now I’m saying ‘hello’ to you.”

She leaned in and kissed me “Hello”.

“You have a way with words.”

The timer called her to the kitchen, she took my hand as she started to go, “come in with me while I get things together – maybe you can get the wine going?”

We had a great time, drinking a lot of wine and laughing. Her cooking was perfection, the food and her company more than made up for my experiences from the previous day. This – I need to remind myself sometimes – is why I do what I do.

After I devoured as much food as humanly possible and the rest was getting cold on the stove, we were still talking. I insisted on helping with the cleanup, she argued but I made sure she lost that battle. As we washed and dried, we passed the time talking and making jokes and talking some more. As much as she’s a flirt and a very sensual being and as much as the wine made us both very warm, we never got to the point of needing to “stop”. We both agreed later, how easy it was to just be together. We’d both felt familiar enough with one another even though this was just our first date but that there was nothing awkward about a purely platonic evening which ended with a particularly nice kiss promising more some other time.

“Sam, this has been one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.” She said at the door, her hand on the knob, seemingly not yet able to open it, she turned her back to the door, still holding the knob and looked at me, “I really had a great time; you are so much fun to be around.” Her free hand came to my face, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, her eyes which have captivated me from the very start were shimmering the reflections of the soft lighting in the living room, her lips, quirked slightly in that teasing grin, those full lips parted ever so slightly but no words followed. I took the opportunity to call it an invitation and closed the gap between us. Taking her into my arms caught her off guard and she released the doorknob. We moved simultaneously into the kiss, keeping it PC, mostly, until she pulled me closer and deepened the kiss, and I followed, taking her bottom lip in a nip before pulling away. Her eyes were veiled by her lush lashes and her cheeks were a bit rosier than they’d been just moments before.

“I enjoyed being with you, Ember. Dinner –” I rubbed my still full belly, “was incredible, I’m still stuffed! Being with you was even more incredible than your cooking. Can we do something like this again? Maybe my treat next time?”

“You’d better believe it!” she kissed me again, one of her flirty kisses that still makes me jealous when it’s not me on the receiving end, but one that I know means affection – and that includes anyone who has touched her heart. I am learning the difference in her kisses. Hell, I’m enjoying learning the difference in her kisses. “Goodnight Sam. Be careful getting home, you’re buying next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long with Sam, the powers of a negative comment sometimes take their toll. I pushed past it - taking a few extra weeks in doing so - not wanting to jeopardize Sam's story or character. Thanks for hanging in there with me.


	8. Like You Do

Twice in a week I’ve gotten an emergency call from my super soldier friends. Both times were in the deepest dark of night, and I wasn’t asleep when the calls came. It’s a good thing Ember loves them.

The first call came from Bucky. Their home was invaded by Hydra agents. Bucky took them out and called for support and to be part of the cleanup crew. I’m all for being there for support but I draw the line at clean-up. Except for when it comes to my friends. Steve’s the friend you _would_ help hide a body. Bucky’s the friend who would make it necessary.

Bucky was taking the deaths of the hydra agents at his hands pretty badly when I got through the door, a thing I’d sort of expected as I had heard that hollowness in his voice when he called. I’d even told him he couldn’t run before I got there. He’s been having more thoughts of hightailing it out of town as the prospect of coming into the world becomes a reality. He was there when I got there, Steve was trying to calm him and remind him of the good things in his life. In the end it was Steve I ended up needing to be there for though, since Bucky seemed to find an ally in Barton who had also come to help with the situation.

The fight had been close and Steve had thought he’d just lost his soul mate again and he broke down in the midst of it all. He had it in his head that he’s supposed to be perfect because he had some serum alter him. Sorry pal, I reminded him that he’s still human and he gets to have all the human insecurities. Guy just needs a nudge from time to time. A not so gentle reminder.

\-----

The next call I got was from Steve. His voice was low and tinged with pain.

“Sam, I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“Steve, don’t. You don’t apologize for calling me, what’s up?”

“It’s Bucky.” His voice sounded strangled. “He left.”

“Shit!” I sat up, Ember’s hand reached for the small of my back.

“Sam?” I turned to her with what I’d hoped was a reassuring look, her curls were hanging over her shoulders as she laid there, leaning on the pillow of her left forearm, her right outstretched to me.

“Bucky.” I mouthed, “Steve, when did he leave? Did he give you any clues?” I rushed trying to shove both legs into my pants at the same time.

Ember crawled across the bed smoothly, came to me and put a hand on my shoulder “Slow down.” She said softly, pulling her own jeans on and slipping into my shirt.

“Sam, he’s back but I need you to come over, if it’s not a problem.”

I handed Ember my phone as I said loudly enough to be heard, “It’s not a problem Steve. Here’s Ember.” I needed to step away from him and his confused timeline; shouldn’t he have led with that? Damn. Besides, I needed to find another shirt because mine looked damn fine on Ember’s slender form.

“Steve, we’ll be there.” She said with a ‘no arguments this time’ tone and a pointed look at me. She knew I had kept her from something the last time I’d answered their call and though she’d never said anything she apparently was determined that I wasn’t getting away with it again. These two are hers more than they’re mine.

After she soothed his nerves and we were dressed I tried, “you could just stay here. It’s likely to be boring and long.”

“Sam. I know enough about them. I know that you’re protecting me. I love those boys and if they need help I’m in.”

“Just how much do you think you know?” I asked as we made our way out the door.

“I know who Steve and Bucky are. I know about you and the Avengers and I know a little about Bucky’s past. I do read the internet Sam.”

“Well the internet is full of lies and you don’t know the half of what he’s gone through.”

“And it’s his story to tell. I don’t care. I love you. I love them. I’m going.”

When we got there, Steve came to the door running a hand through his hair, “Sam, Ember thank you for coming.” He hugged each of us tightly. I could sense the exhaustion from his lingering grasp on each of us. The Christmas tree had come down in the days since I’d been here last and the place was warm and dimly lit. He had something from the forties playing on the stereo, the volume low.

Instead of _him_ ushering _us_ in, Ember took _his_ hand and pulled him to the sofa. “What’s happening that has this place so charged?”

He looked at me questioning and I just shrugged ‘you know Ember’ on my face and in my eyes.

He sighed, “Since the –” he paused.

“Since whatever horrible thing dragged Sam out of my bed.” She urged, softly with a level of reprimand in her voice (that was for me).

“What do you know about Hydra?” he asked softly.

“I know what’s been on the internet and in the news. I know that they’re your ‘tale as old as time’ enemy.” That seemed like enough for him to not launch into the Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier tale.

“They attacked us in our home that night. Sam came to help with the aftermath. Since that night Bucky has only had a few hours of sleep, it was the night after the invasion. He had a nightmare, the worst ever.” Steve ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s ok, take it slow, I know this week has been hard.” I watched as she put her hand on his knee, gentle and kind.

“Steve,” I started then stopped getting a look from Ember. I guess my time wasn’t yet. I watched as she touched his arm.

“Tell me about the nightmare.” She said softly.

“No. You don’t want –” he didn’t want to put thoughts of the Winter Soldier in her head, I knew from the look he leveled at me. I gave him my own look.

“She chose to come. She needs to know.”

“I need to know Steve. I won’t love him any less.”

“Well, we were sleeping, I woke up unable to breathe, his hand crushing my throat. I had to physically fight him off. It was a horrible nightmare for him, I still don’t know what the motivator was, and he hasn’t spoken about it. He hasn’t allowed himself to sleep since.”

“Steve, has this ever happened before?” she asked, her voice still soothing and kind.

“No, it’s always one or the other of us either screaming or shaking or just bolting out of the bed. We know how to handle them but this – and I don’t blame him at all, the attack had us both fucked up. He just up and walked out tonight, no warning, no signs. I woke up alone. It felt off, different somehow. I knew before I looked but I still looked in all the places he’d go. He was gone.” Steve let tears fall, sobs choking him as soon as he said ‘alone’. “I followed what I thought might be footprints on the frosted sidewalk and I found him. He’d passed out at the corner. But if I hadn’t caught up to him –” he sighed.

“It’s ok. You did. Which room is he in? I assume he’s here of his own choosing?”

“Not exactly. I told him he had to come back with me. He could have bolted, I didn’t restrain him or anything.” He sighed again. “He’s in our bed.”

She stood up and went into their bedroom without asking, without a word actually.

“She won’t wake him.” I assured him at his questioning glance. I peeked through the doorway, she was sitting on the side of the bed, stroking Bucky’s hair and as much as I think I should feel jealous, I didn’t. I felt proud. She wasn’t afraid after hearing that a super soldier had nearly been taken down by him. “So.” I said, sitting next to him.

“So.” He heaved, settling back roughly against the sofa back. “He’s a flight risk.”

“No. He’s terrified. He’s sleep deprived. His heart’s in the right place but his head is up his ass.”

“Sam, that’s harsh.”

“No. It isn’t. ‘I'm gonna leave because it’s the right thing to do’? ‘Fuck my friends and the love of my life – all the people who can help me more than anyone can’?”

“Still harsh.” He looked as tired as he said Barnes was.

“So is this shit. And I’d tell him that too.” I added for good measure.

“Yeah, he was kind of harsh. He promised me we’d be together. Asked me to run with him if shit goes sideways.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah. I would.” He didn’t hesitate. He’d actually run off with him if things don’t go right.

“I see where I rate.” I wasn’t exactly joking.

“You rate pretty damned high Sam. I’d find a way to let you know what was up.”

“I’d try to feel better about that when it happened.” I told him. “I’d have to give Ember the phone again to keep from cussing you out. Let you explain to her.”

“Is that why you gave her the phone tonight?” he looked away from the ceiling where he’d been focusing on the design or not focusing on anything is equally likely.

“Hell yes. “He left Sam”. “oh but he’s back Sam”. I gave her your confused ass so I wouldn’t cuss you out right away.” He had the good judgment to laugh a short and all too heavy laugh.

“Sorry.” He leaned forward, arms on his legs, head in his hands for the briefest moment before looking over at me, “I actually called to beg you to come sit watch with me. I promised him I’d call in backup so he could sleep and not be afraid of killing me in his sleep.”

“He’s been too tightly strung and not just from the attack. It all just happened at the same time. With the possibility of Hydra knowing about our arrangement I’ve had some friends look into some of the names of the contacts we’ve been using. I’m losing faith in confidential informants. We need to lock it down. Shayla is clean. I’m suspicious of somebody close to her – someone in her office maybe.” I offered what suspicions I have been having about everything.

“We’re never going to be rid of them. They’re everywhere. If someone I’ve only just met has Hydra conspirators in their office they’re everywhere.” He lamented.

“Remember she’s in a high profile institution with strong government ties. It’s not like she is head of some random law firm or something. The government is the beast we’re stuck with. We aren’t fighting it alone either.” The tension in his shoulders eased some but I expected it would return with my next question, “What did Fury say about the latest delivery?”

“He wants to know why Hydra attacked me directly in my home. I told him I’ve been their enemy since the last century. Wants to know how I managed to do it. I just asked if he’s seen me fight.”

“You’re a smug bastard. You know you only bought yourself a few extra moments right?”

“Yeah, I know. I want Bucky there to do the telling. I want things to be easy for him.”

I laughed at the images, “Fury.. Barnes.. Easy..” he eyed me before reluctantly laughing too.

Ember came out about then, “You guys are loud.” She smiled.

“Yeah, I guess we are. How is he?” Steve’s smile softened and all but disappeared.

“He’s sleeping, fitfully. You look tired too, Steve. You should go in with him. It might soothe him, and we’ll be right here – leave the door open so we can watch over you both.” She could have heard our conversation or she could be just ‘that good’.

“He’ll kill me when he wakes up if I go to sleep after making him a promise.”

“So, lie with him, comfort him. Watch over him. If you fall asleep in the process it’s not a big deal, since we’re right out here.” She pulled him up by his arms and prodded him toward the bedroom.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with – you know that.” I chuckled behind them.

He complied, knowing how to follow the orders of a General, especially when they aligned with his passion. The two of us sat in the quiet of the living room, listening to the fits and throes of anxious sleep as it mellowed and quieted into a duet of sleepy snores.

“There’s a lot more I don’t know, isn’t there?” she asked with her fingers on my hand.

“Yeah, a lot more. I think Bucky should be the one to tell the story but I am afraid he might not be able to with you. He doesn’t want you to think poorly of him.”

“I’ll have to set him straight.” She wrapped her fingers around my hand, “I am so glad they have you. I’m so glad I have you.”

I put my free hand on the side of her face as she put her head on my shoulder. “I’m becoming pretty fond of you too. Do you have any idea how you’ve improved my life? Our lives?”

She smiled, “I’d say it’s mutual.”

“Do you think they’re safe in there? It’s not like I can actually pull two super soldiers apart.”

“I know they are. We’re just here to make them feel secure. He knew that when he agreed to Steve calling you. I also think he believes you love Steve more than you care for him. So if he puts Steve in danger, he’s pretty sure you’ll put a bullet in him.”

“What?” I looked aside at her, my face contorted in disbelief.

“Just what I said. I think he believes you care more for Steve and you’ll protect him at all costs. You’ll shoot Bucky to save Steve. It’s what he would do so it makes sense to him.”

“Where did you get this idea?”

“It’s a theory, not an idea, not a rule or a stated fact.”

“It’s crazy.” I told her, “It’s never going to be an option so can we stop talking about it?”

“So, it’s crazy to us, don’t tell him that. Yes we can stop talking about it.”

We talked quietly for hours, helping ourselves to food from the refrigerator. She didn’t look beyond the painting on the easel to the work Steve had spread back out across the table after Christmas. We played cards while big band music serenaded the house.

The sun was on the other side of the building – no longer burning through the window in the kitchen – when Barnes came out in his pajama pants and bare chest and feet, wandered into the bathroom and then peeked back out again looking hung over.

“You still here Wilson?” he sounded gruff “Thanks. Why’d you bring her?”

“I’ll have you know, you rude little bugger that I came on my own…” she shot at him from across the room, not sounding angry or hostile at all, but laughing.

He went back into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Did you hear that shit? “why’d you bring her?” like I’m some stranger, some floozy you picked up on the way.” She said loudly enough to be heard through walls and doors.

I was amazed at the tone, because yeah the words coming out of her face didn’t shock me, the fact that she was giggling about it was what struck me.

 “You’re not pissed?”

“Hell no.” she grinned speaking quietly “he’s ok. He’s just grouchy and tired. He’s ok.”

She met him at the door when he came back out and grabbed him in a big hug, “Bucky, sweet Bucky, don’t ever pull that again. You can’t leave us.” She held him by the waist from behind, putting her head on his shoulder blade.

He looked at me through tired eyes with a helpless expression, which I returned with an equally helpless one. He turned in her arms and awkwardly put his arms around her.

“If you don’t hug me properly I’ll make you sorry.” She said looking up at him. “You can’t break me with a hug Bucky. Just like you won’t hurt Steve if you sleep. You’ll hurt him if you don’t.”

“His feelings are worrisome but his safety is more so.” He said softly enough that I barely heard him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know that I mean you can’t be on your A game if you are sleep deprived. You were a sniper in the war, right? When are you most alert? Fresh after getting a full measure of sleep? Or after hours and hours of keeping watch and feeling drained?”

He tightened his arms around her and looked at me again with that helpless face.

“I’d answer her if I were you.” I shrugged.

“It seems you’re right.” He said, kissing the top of her head. “I’m still pretty wiped. Can you guys just stick around a little longer? I really appreciate it. I’m not quite ready to trust myself alone with Steve and my nightmares.”

“We’re here as long as you need us.” I told him, watching Ember smile. “Return my girlfriend first.”

His smile was genuine, tired and relieved as he flipped me off and plodded back to the bedroom, leaving the door open.

We heard them talking in low voices as he returned to bed and then the sounds died back into snores.

“Thank you Sam.” She cooed as she sat next to me on the sofa, curling into my arm.

“I don’t know what for. They’re my friends too.”

After several more hours of quiet Steve came out looking rested and rumpled. His hair was everywhere but where it should be and his face held the imprint of the pattern of Bucky’s metal arm and his arms had the imprint of the sheets colored pink on his skin. Ember and I laughed before catching ourselves and got a puzzled look for our outburst.

“What’s so funny.”  He said more than asked.

“Your face.” I laughed again, uncontrollably. Ember thumping me in the ribs with her elbow, which I didn’t take seriously since she was giggling too.

“Go look in the mirror Steve.” She giggled some more.

He walked into the bathroom and turned on the light then came back out laughing himself. The laughter lasted longer than the marks did so when a grumbling Bucky came out of the bedroom, “You guys sure are noisy.” He had missed the whole thing.

“Oh Buck,” Steve laughed, “I had the imprint of your arm on my face from sleeping.”

He just looked at all of us.

“I guess you had to be there.” Ember giggled.

“I guess so.” He scratched his stubbled jaw. “You guys hungry? I’m sure I can find enough in the kitchen to fix something worthy of repaying everyone for my outburst.”

“Buck.” Steve put his arms around Bucky from behind. “You don’t have to pay anyone anything. A bad day is a bad day and we’ve all had them.”

“A bad week, Steve. and I want to cook. It makes me feel grounded, home.”

“I can eat.” I said looking at Ember, “We ate so long ago – Ember? Are you hungry?”

She smiled at me – getting ready to thank me again I’m sure – but she didn’t. “Yes, I’m hungry and Bucky’s cooking is exactly what I need.

“Listen, I owe everyone an apology. I overreacted.” Bucky said heading into the kitchen. “I hit a really low point and I thought I was acting in everyone’s best interest. I was wrong.” He said when he saw at least Steve and Ember gearing up to argue with him. I was not going to argue – because he did overreact and he was owning up to it.

Bucky pulled out a bunch of vegetables and fired up the stove, heating a wok. He returned to the fridge and gathered rice and chicken and started cooking up the most delicious aroma. He asked Steve to switch the music to “cooking tunes” and proceeded to chop and fry what turned out to be a better meal than if we’d ordered Chinese takeout.

We all sat around the coffee table in the living room, eating the great food he’d made, between bites he told Ember everything from the fall – all of the memories he had regained boiled down to relatable things and humorous stories of him and Steve. He painfully told about Hydra’s dealings and how he’d systematically taken down bases and safe-houses while Steve and I were doing the same and looking for him.

There were plenty of tears when he told about killing for Hydra because it was “the right thing to do”. “No Bucky!” Ember had cried and he took her hand.

“That’s how they managed it. It was “the right thing”, all of their desires were spun so that I would believe the lies, the truth just out of reach, colored hazy gray or red, and turned into something undesirable. The things I loved were taken from me but the things I believed in went too deep, they erased my life and still they had to spin things to fit into my belief system. I never thought I was good or bad. I believed I was doing what was for **a better world**.

“But this one –” he took Steve’s hand then, kissing his fingers, “he put a wedge in the door they tried to slam on my life. He pulled the thread that they’d knit their lies with. Turning the lies bitter and the truth to ‘technicolor’. My life was the hard part. The part I couldn’t find. The part I needed to find without him, without help.

“I wandered and I tore them down piece by piece as I found myself more in the process. I still don’t have all of my memories. I still don’t know how much I think I remember is real and how much is what I might have read or been told. Steve’s pretty good about asking and not telling unless I prompt him. I’ve read so much though and I can visualize what I read so I might have some false memories of real events.”

He spoke the words plainly, trying to be sympathetic to Ember even when he was angry or hurt. His tears or clenched fist were the only real tell in regards to the feelings he was experiencing. He knew she felt it deeper, felt his anguish and fury but he was kind because he didn’t want to make it worse, because she’s precious to him in ways no one will understand. Even though I know that, I don’t know the depth of the connection they share. She was kind to him when no one else was, she was warm and open and accepting when he was alone. That’s a big thing.

She hugged his neck instead of shying away, which I could tell by the confusion on his face when he looked at me was not what he’d expected.

“Well I knew you had some demons and I knew you’d share someday. I didn’t know how awful it had been for you, I never knew anything could be so awful.” She wept into his neck. His shock didn’t dissipate, he looked to Steve for answers and to me. He took her shoulders and pulled her away gently to look at her.

“I thought you’d hate me for the things I did.”

“Does Steve? Or Sam? Bucky, I hate _them_ for forcing it onto you. I hate them for giving you no choice and worse, for giving you the idea that you deserve to be hated.”

He held her tight as long as she clung to him. Steve wrapped his arms around them both.

“Hey guys!” Bucky called out from the middle of their pile, “crushing me – can’t breathe.” Which just caused them to topple on top of one another in fits of giggles and I was glad I was on the opposite side of the coffee table, taking pictures like you do.

“Hey Barnes!” I called out after a significant number of incriminating photos were saved to my phone, “Can I have my girlfriend back?”

I snapped the shot I was waiting for, him flipping me off. “That’s one for the family album.” I laughed before he moved to lunge across the coffee table, grasping for my phone. He was held back by a pretty girl and a large super soldier so my back somersault cleared me and I pocketed my phone once I was safe in the kitchen.

“You’re so lucky right now bird man.” He called out, straightening the plates he’d scattered in his attempt to cross the table.

“Yeah, come and get me Harriet.” I laughed. He reminded me of a puppy then when he tilted his head to the right then left, trying to place the nickname.

“Harriet Nelson, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet? Oh Bucky, you missed out on so much if you haven’t caught up on that. **The** TV family – forget the Cleavers! The Nelsons started out in radio –”

“On Red Skelton’s show… before we went to war. I think I remember singing and skits but not this Adventures… –”

“No, that started later, ’44-45 maybe” I answered. “They went to TV in the early 50’s and played through the 60’s. Their boy Ricky played Rock and Roll smuggling it into American homes as the clean cut favorite son on TV. Anyway, Harriet was the mom, the ‘housewife’ as it were.”

“So you’re calling me a housewife?”

“As only I can.” I smirked, “mind you, the term is looked down on today; new term Domestic Goddess(?), it’s exactly how you’re being right now – cooking and cleaning up the table instead of beating me up for taking pictures of you flipping me off.” I wandered back to the sofa and Ember joined me, “I highly recommend the Ozzie and Harriet TV show. You should really check it out. Especially the ones after 1957 when Ricky performs at the end of each show.”

Ember chuckled, “Really, Sam? 1957?”

“Yeah! I have a healthy appetite for entertainment. I don’t care where it comes from – or when. It’s history – like these two.”

“He may or may not have primed that particular shot for us and he may or may not be as well versed in it as he says he is.” Steve smirked. “I think he’s just trying to lead us down the whitewashed path he thinks we should go down.”

“What?”

“Widely accepted, good looking white boy bringing Rock and Roll into skeptical white households. The typical trail we’d have been driven down if we’d have been warm and aware, since we’re white boys too.”

“I honestly like the show man. What? You think I just memorized some stats on Wikipedia in order to have a joke with Barnes?”

“OK!” Steve laughed. “We’ll borrow your dvds then.”

“Well I’ll watch them – see if this Harriet can keep up with me. See if Stevie here can measure up too, clear the table Stevie?” he waved a hand over the table like a king summoning a servant. Steve cuffed him in the ribs before kissing his cheek.

“So, you’re staying then, Buck?” Steve asked before moving to stand.

Bucky pulled Steve closer by his hand on the back of his neck, “I’m staying.” He said mid kiss.

“We’re going!” I said from the sofa. “I hope you know you can call any time – and I hope you don’t call any time soon.”

“Sam!” Ember reprimanded me.

“What? They know what I mean.”

“We do.” They said together.

“Sam, thanks.” Steve said – emotions flooding his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks, Sam, for taking care of Steve and me and for being stubborn and for making Steve sleep too.”

“Oh no… that was all this girl. She told him to stay with you and she told him to forget the part about staying awake.”

“Well then thanks for eating my cooking and sitting around while Ember runs the world. Thanks for everything. And you…” he looked fondly at Ember, “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Too much hugging.” I complained as he pulled me into a hug along with Ember.

“Too bad.” he said with the same emphasis.

We left them in what I hoped was a better place than when we’d arrived. Steve had seemed relaxed and Bucky hadn’t been faking his lightheartedness, there was still a weariness that I figured would be taken care of by more sleep which he was under strict orders from the ‘General’ to get.

We decided to walk a while before catching a cab. The weather was chilly but we were both dressed for the weather. At the corner where Steve had found Barnes, where Bucky had stopped, Ember sighed and stretched.

“How is this fair Sam? How do you process what he went through?”

“I’ve had longer to process because I knew a lot of the details before meeting him. It makes it different. And you’re right, it isn’t fair, it’s Hydra and it’s what we are dealing with on a daily basis. It’s dangerous.” I pulled her closer to me, feeling overwhelmed by the need to protect her.

“I’m in it Sam. I’ll be fine but I’m involved now. Have been since meeting all of you. I can take whatever gets thrown at us.”

“You might be singing a different tune when you see the level of crazy that comes with this. Displaced war heroes is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Nope. I’m in.” she smiled wrapping both arms around my arm. “You’re stuck with me and I’m sorry if that puts you in a situation. I’ll be smart and try to stay out of trouble.”

“Oh…” I laughed, “Good luck with that.”

We walked quite a distance before finally feeling the cold and hailing a cab.


End file.
